#they want me to post my class work to share so guess this is going on the gram 🥴

[starscreamingg]

Looking back on Detroit become human in the wake of the ai craze is like. The most morbidly funny thing to me One of these days I have to write something on how the story of that game just gets HORRIFYING when you view it through a (more) modern lens. Man

[wonryllis]

the hot dad next door (m) | park sunghoon.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

preview. the ever quintessential first time dad moves in next door with his five year old and finds it impossible not to fall for you, the pretty girl who gives his daughter cookies and him; the doll eyes. obsessed with your entire being, unable to keep his hands off you, park sunghoon questions if he's just crazy or he's crazy over you.

or where, he notices the way you look at his hands a little too long for it to be innocent.

meet the cast. single dad!park sunghoon with his pretty neighbour fem!reader.

genre. DILFF AUU !!, SMUT MDNI, fluff, neighbours to lovers, sunghoon is quite literally yes insanely crazed over you and for the sake of god can't keep his dick soft, domestic a little bit i guess, i want to make her my wife trope EEEKKK, slight age gap (hoon in late twenties and reader in early twenties) more to be added.

word count. est around 20k or more

warnings. inaccuracies about parenting cause i aint a parent, i got no idea. more will be mentioned in the actual post.

releasing. very soon!! .. progress update tag

park sunghoon was hot, he was a walking greek god. was single and wore these fitted suits that had you weak in the knees. if that wasn't hot enough, park sunghoon also had the cutest baby girl you had ever come across and it just made him hotter than he could ever have been.

"hey, um .. is ji—" sunghoon stands at the threshold of your open apartment door, one hand holding his creased blazer and the other rubbing at the back of his neck. embarrassed and shy at having to show up at yours looking like a mess after work because his daughter ran off while he was busy on a call and taking out her school bag from the backseat. and because everytime his daughter ran off, it was to the pretty girl next door who gives away sweet cookies all the time.

"is jia here? yeah she's in the kitchen," you answer, smiling soft and knowingly at the worried guy who barely looked like a dad. he worked in a corporate editorial, out before eight in the morning just as you prepared ingredients for your bakery. taking his daughter along to school, her excited voice resonating through the halls talking about how they were going to play with clay in class. around seven in the evening you'd hear her again, this time alone as she would skip over to your door because dada was too slow.

on weekends it'd be impossible to ignore the ruckus they made playing around, sometimes inviting you over for lunch because sunghoon apparently made too much and jia wanted to share her dada's delicious food. on some occasional weekends when he'd be called in to work for a few hours, jia would promise him to stay home and behave only to call you through the landline the moment he'd step out the door. and you would text sunghoon to come over to yours after work, his daughter munching on the new flavored cupcakes you made, unbothered about her dad and his scoldings.

"come on in, i made some almond lime tart, you could give me some feedbacks along with jia. you know she always says it's good and i can never know if it's actually good," sunghoon can't help but chuckle at that, slipping off his shoes by the front and walking inside. his eyes following your figure with a fond look as you tend to his daughter delicately, and might he admit— even more so than him.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids; cue that one time jia was crying her eyes out after school and he had no idea what to do to comfort her, knocking at your door frantically and having his mind blown at how quickly you figured things out and calmed her down.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids, you treat them both so well, always ready to help him out with jia, giving them sweet treats every other day and most of all— you're fucking pretty. way too pretty for him to handle.

FIRST TAGLIST (open.) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @belowbun @aaa-sia @niniissus @tobiosbbyghorl @imjakes-wifeofc1 @youresolivlie @eun-cherry @kimsunoops @aiden2001 @brownsugarbaybee @pockettwinzz @bangtancultsposts @diorikis @heelvsted @crimnalseung @iselltulips @yzzyhee @woniebae @river-demon-slayer @lovingvoidgoatee @antonsgirlfriend @kpopslover @bugcattie @slut4hee @yunjinswifee @woniefull @nanaheex @soobs-things @dammit-jjk @starlvcieszsq @mnxnii @skylaly @mintdsunoo @uyuchoco @anittamaxwynnn @rikiwaify-blog @kill4jl @ggparkjh @sstephenzz @judeduartewannabe @jungwoneez @aye2611-blog @hybeboyenthusisast @minjaexvz

[ashipiko]

—NIKO CIMARRON

All information on Niko Cimarron ATM! Will most likely be updated ☆

—MORE UNDER CUT

BASIC INFORMATION:

Class: 2-A

Birthday: October 24

Height: 176cm

Dominant Hand: Right

From: Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands

Club: Film Studies (visits on occasion, inactive member)

Favorite Subject: Magic Analysis

Best Subject: Animal Languages

Likes: Making a profit

Dislikes: Getting outsmarted

Favorite Food: Berries / Berry flavored things

Least Favorite Food: Anything too hot

Specialty: Balancing on the line of lie and truth

GALLERY:

VOICE CLAIM:

YUU’S INTERVIEW:

— Scarabia Dorms - Niko’s Room —

for easier reading, all yuu dialogue will be in italics and all niko dialogue will be in a normal black font instead of green.

There you are. Surprised you came to visit me, Carrots.

> You know what I’m here for, Niko.

> Why are you surprised?

No need to act like that. Interview, right? Or should I say an interrogation? If you wanted to hang out with me, you didn’t need to hide around the bush, you know…

It’s cute seeing you all dodgy, but still. ♡

> I think it matches your vibe.

> You’re one to talk.

Yeah, yeah. How many questions do we have planned for today? Don’t take too long, now. I’ve gotta start pumping out those treats for my profit.

…Oh. No need to worry about a pen and paper, I’ve got one for you.

> I didn’t expect for you to be so prepared.

> (…They’re cuter than expected.)

Something something about matching the vibes… They’re modeled after an old movie about cops and so, interrogating. Figured you’d like them. A carrot for Carrots. It’s cute.

It’s about time to start though, huh?

> Yeah.

> No more wasting time.

INTERVIEW: START!

1. Can we get some basic info about you from… you?

A second year Scarabia student who’s a fox beastman. I guess I’m what you’d call a charmer, thief of the heart, man of your dreams… I’ve heard it all. But the real name’s Niko. Niko Cimarron. My surname means “Wild”, so you could call me Mr. Wild if you like that too. Heh, actually, it’s a business thing, so I guess you’d only call me that if you bought my products… Say, Carrots, you feeling like you need a snack? I have some lefties if you’d like.

> No thanks.

> Why not?

They’re tasty, I prommie~.

2. Speaking of which, what are your “pawpsicles” made from? How do you make them?

Those little things? Why, I’ll let you know I put my blood, sweat, and tears in those treats. Makes me happy to see other people happy, like the faces on a thaumark. To make ‘em, it’s just some tasty berries from the school grounds that get mushed up to get juice, where they go into a mold and freeze up. It’s hard work! I’ve gotta walk so many steps around the school and all across campus… You’re lucky you never saw me in my first year. Took me a while to get used to the schedule… Though, I’m a well-organized man now, I’ll have you know. It’s good for the public image.

3. You’re from the Shaftlands, aren’t you? Do you have any connections to Vil, Cater, or Jack?

Connections? I have them with everyone, really… though I don’t think those three are really aware I came from the same place as them. To be fair, the Shaftlands is a pretty big area. People even go as far to call it a utopia.

If anything, I’ve talked to Diamond more at NRC than anywhere in the Shaftlands. Is that because I never even saw him once? Maybe. So I can’t say about back then, but I can enjoy a good conversation with him now. He’s a good customer and a good influencer. Back then, he got me a good chunk of costumers off of a Magicam post, so I’ve got to give it to him. Who knew people could just follow trendy things at the drop of a hat? Crazy, right?

Vil is a major celebrity, and Jack, I didn’t even know existed ‘till this year. I’ve got nothing to say about Mr. Hardhead, but I’ve had my fair share of talks with Vil. When we were kids, I got a wave from him once… It was great bragging rights. Heh, he kinda freaks me out now though. The reason why I don’t actually participate in club activities. He’s probably too high of a standard for a lowlife like me, so it’s not something that bothers me anyway.

4. You don’t seem to have a Unique Magic. Any reason why?

Ah. Magic? A little bit of a sour topic for me, Carrots, ow… I’m just a late bloomer, is all. I’ve got magic in me, but I never played around with it when I was younger, so I’m way more rusty than all of the other guys here. It doesn’t mean I don’t know the brain stuff, though. Just inexperienced.

If I’m being dead honest, it’s kind of a miracle how I got into NRC. I guess they wanted the fox vote, huh? Heh.

5. Not sure if I’ve seen you around a lot with one particular person. Is there a secret someone?

Secret someone? Getting jealous, are you? Haha, I would’ve never taken you to be the type!

> Not the focus of the question.

> That’s not…!

It’s your fault for wording it like that. You’ve got to watch your words, Carrots. Well, the business life is a cold one, isn’t it? Being around a bunch of highschool guys isn’t really the “ideal” grounds for making business partners either, so it is what it is. At least this way, I get all the profits, so I don’t mind. If you want, I can save a spot for you by my side. ♡

> Again, no thanks.

> Maybe after I get a break from all the things this school brings.

Keep me in mind~.

6. Our last question. You say a lot of random stuff. People get annoyed with it pretty often. How do you feel about that?

…? Oh, you picked up on it, huh? Heh, I mean… I guess I could come clean. I think it’s interesting you haven’t walked away from me yet, y’know. Usually people aren’t into this stuff.

> You are annoying, but…

> (Would it be mean to say something?)

I appreciate you, Carrots. A little too much than I’d like.

Usually people don’t really like the stereotypical foxiness I bring to the table. They run away because I’m either something they don’t wanna get mixed up with, or just something they don’t like. I think you’re a weirdo who’s looking for entertainment when you come into my room and talk to me like this.

…But I guess that just means that you like the way I talk to you, right? You can’t get enough? Is that what’s happening here? ♡

> For a second, I thought you were going to need some comfort, but I guess not.

> Really, it’s fine, Niko…

Don’t pretend like your cheeks aren’t a little red. I like the reactions I get out of you. ♡

Is that all you wanted? Yeah? Alright, we’re done here, then. Hand me the pen, would ya?

> It was nice being able to talk to you like this.

> (That was a quick turnaround.)

…Yeah. Hurry on up, shouldn’t you be studying up on actual things worth studying? Live up to that Smarty McSmart Pants title. Bye-bye now~.

INTERVIEW: END!

> (I feel like Niko’s more than meets the eye.)

> (I feel like Niko’s… hiding something.)

.

.

.

TRIVIA:

Niko is twisted off of Nick Wilde from Zootopia!

Niko is actually magicless. Not entirely, as he does have some running in his blood, so he didn’t lie, but it’s not enough where he can successfully conjure spells. Because of this, at NRC, he often has to get by with con-artist type excuses and acts. It works most of the time, as he has Crowley’s support. For now, he’s getting by with the excuse of being a late bloomer, but I’m sure suspicions are beginning to rise… Perhaps, if it were to be found out that he’s unable to conjure spells, he would be kicked out of NRC.

He made it to NRC after being dared to attempt to con his way in by his magicless best friend. His name is not noted, but he’s a very angry and violent French fennec fox. Niko is often bullied by him.

He can be considered a fan of Vil.

Niko enjoys the pop genre a lot, but is embarrassed to admit it.

Despite being a playboy, Niko is easily flustered at the thought of someone seriously making moves on him.

Niko can also count as a bit of a heartbreaker. For the romantics around the school, everyone knows Niko as that kid who’ll charm you for a week and leave you heartbroken when he inevitability rejects you. It’s not anything against anybody, really, but more so the fact that Niko can’t ever imagine dating someone before he tells them his secret. It feels unfair to him. But people take offense to it nonetheless, the heartbroken people usually cutting Niko off as soon as they figure out that there won’t be anything working between them.

Because of the way some people leave him as soon as they sense no romance, Niko finds the concept of love to be sort of flaky. It takes a while for him to develop a crush, despite his flighty, flirty attitude.

Due to being a class 2-A student, Niko often ends up selling his treats most often there. Kalim and Silver are his number one customers, as Kalim buys bundles of them to give to Scarabia members, and Silver buys them for Lilia to enjoy.

Niko attends the Playful Land event and ends up staying in contact with Fellow Honest afterwards. This relationship ends up contributing a lot to Niko’s development.

Even though he doesn’t want to, he feels obligated to play into the deceitful foxiness of himself, because that’s what people naturally expect of him. It stops them from getting curious about him, as it seems like they’ve already got him figured out.

He says things that are considered shallow, like flirting or bargaining because he wants to get a reaction out of people. Niko does small things like this for small reactions — enough of these small reactions will fulfill the same satisfaction of seeing someone he loves flustered or happy, he thinks. In truth, he knows it won’t amount to much. Niko tries to satisfy himself enough so that he won’t need the real thing.

Niko feels very guilty for deceiving everyone at NRC, especially the prefect. Even still, he doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he truly doesn’t belong here, taking up a spot possibly for somebody who deserves it much more.

Niko’s way of thinking suggests that if he acts distasteful enough, it will cause people to stray far away from him. He believes that he really is just a lowlife fox, but the truth of his actions is something he think people would hate him for most; living in a lie. Because of this, he acts like a playboy and an annoyance in attempts to get people to stay away, preventing them from finding out the even uglier truth of him.

Additionally, he’s afraid to have the truth leak out because he doesn’t want to leave NRC. Though he doesn’t have much, he doesn’t want to lose the little bit he does have, and the little bits he keeps on gaining.

Even still, Niko craves for someone who will take time to understand him. Which is why he’s so attached to the prefect.

More to be added!

^ the pawpsicle icons in this relationship chart represent whether if the character is an avid pawpsicle enjoyer (has the icon), has experienced it once but never had it again (once!), and if they have never had it.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shot Through The Heart II

Alexia Putellas x Archer!Reader

Summary: The story of your love

A camera pans down from the treeline to focus on an unassuming house on an unassuming street in an unassuming part of Barcelona. It zooms in to the front door, swinging open and investigates the hallway - passing by a collection of family photos, a World Cup medal framed along with a bow and arrow mounted above a doorway.

It turns sharply to the left to an open plan lounge that borders a kitchen.

An interviewer is sitting in an armchair facing you and Alexia, snuggled on the sofa.

"You caused quite a stir," The interviewer says," When you both posted on Instagram. I guess my first question is, how did it begin?"

Alexia chuckles. "We shared a garden. It was one of those old gardens where the end of it shared a fence with the neighbour behind you. I kicked my football over it."

"And I shot it, pinned it to the fence and everything."

"I climbed that same fence to get it back. And we just stared at each other. Then, I burst into tears."

●～●～●～●～

The girl who just climbed over your fence stared at you.

You stared back, brows pulled together in confusion.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she pointed an accusing finger at you. "What did you do to my ball?!"

You pointed to where your arrow had pinned it to the fence. "I shot it." You put your hands on your hips. "You shouldn't kick balls over my fence if you don't want them shot!"

The girl burst into tears, sobbing hysterically and you jolted in shock. You glanced back at your house in worry before you frantically unpinned the ball from the fence.

"Sorry! Sorry!" You said, holding the ball out to her," Stop crying! Look! Here! Take your stupid ball!" You threw it at her.

She caught it, turning it over in her hand as it began to very slightly deflate. She pointed at your bow. "What's that?"

"It's my bow," You replied, before puffing out your chest," I'm an archer."

"I'm a footballer."

"Cool."

"You bow's kind of cool too."

"I'm y/n."

"Alexia."

●～●～●～●～

"So not the best first meeting," The interviewer jokes.

You shake you head. "Not the best but we ended up getting on after that. Our Papas had to knock down the fence and replace it with a door so we didn't have to keep climbing to see each other."

"I think your dad still has the scar," Alexia replies and you roll your eyes.

"It all worked out though. We attended the same schools, sat together in class, ate together at lunch. We walked home together too."

"And was it difficult to find time to hang out together while you were both training?"

Alexia thinks back to it and shakes her head. "We would walk home together after school and our mamas would take it in turns to drive each of us to practice."

"La Masia was closer so Alexia always got out first but I finished earlier so we would get driven back home with each other too."

"Sometimes we'd have sleepovers."

The interviewer smiles. "And when did your romantic relationship start?"

"We were sixteen. Alexia asked me."

●～●～●～●～

Alexia was late. You weren't entirely sure why but she was. You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot impatiently. You couldn't stay long, you had a competition that your Papa was taking you to - you had gotten the rest of the day off school.

The canteen was filling up with students and you glanced at the clock again. You sighed, checking your phone. No messages from Alexia.

It wasn't like her to ghost you like this but you just assumed she had been asked to stay back after class.

You shouldered your bag, ready to make your way to reception to sign out and wait for your father to pull up, when a body crashed into yours.

Alexia curled around you, head in your neck. You felt her grinning.

"You're late," You informed her," I have to get going."

She retreated from your embrace, lacing your fingers together and walked with you to reception. She waited as you signed out and joined you outside when you went for your Papa to arrive.

You could feel her staring at your side profile, not looking away.

"What?"

"You're so pretty."

You rolled your eyes. "You're pretty too, Alexia."

She shook her head in annoyance as if trying to gather her thoughts. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly. "Date me."

●～●～●～●～

The interviewer laughs. "So, not much of a question then."

You laugh too. "I knew what she meant. It was a no brainer to say yes."

"I wanted to take her to the movies," Alexia says," But my Mama told me that if I wanted to go, I had to take Alba so we just ended up in the park."

"We spent hours there, though," You continue," And we ended up at this cute little café that we always go back to. It was run by this cute old couple that had been together for years. They're gone now but their son took over."

"We used to sit there all the time and do our homework when we didn't have practice. He watched us grow up. We get free doughnuts when we go there now."

Your hands draw circles on Alexia's arms as you hum, watching the interviewer lap up all the information.

"And, obviously, Alexia you ended up at Barca but y/n...You went to South Korea?"

You laugh at her shock. "Yeah, Korea's pretty damned good at archery. In fact, my trainer when I was younger came from there originally so he recommended I head over. I mean, I've trained all around the world for archery but the Koreans are dedicated. They're extremely good and I'm honoured that I got the chance to try and keep up with them."

"And how did the long distance work? Was it difficult?"

●～●～●～●～

Alexia's offseason never lasts really long. Between club duties and country duties, she was always on the pitch.

Your schedule was a bit more lenient, allowing you to train anywhere you wanted although you mainly stayed in Korea. You flew to France a few times a year, a brief two-month stay in the US, a couple of weeks in Spain and then back to Korea again.

It was rare that she had this kind of time off so, there you were, waiting at Incheon airport for the love of your life to get through the doors.

She crashed into you as soon as she spotted you. You held her tight, nose buried into her hair as you breathed her in.

"I missed you, amor," She said.

"Not as much as I missed you," You replied.

You pulled back, taking her cheeks in your hands and pulling her in for a long, sweet kiss - trying to put all of your longing and love into it.

"I missed you," You said again as you took Alexia's hand in your own while your other grabbed her bags.

You brought her back to your apartment, dumping the suitcase in the lounge before turning to look at Alexia. It wasn't the first time she had been in your apartment but she still marvelled over it like it was.

Her hands ghosted over the pictures of her mantelpiece - particularly the one with you and her at school, grinning at the camera like two crazy people. Your bow leaned up against the tv and a medal hung from a hook attached to a magnet on your fridge.

"I watched this competition," She said as she poked the medal," I couldn't understand anything the commentators were saying but you looked really good in your uniform."

You sent her a lopsided smile. "You think I looked good?"

"Hmm." She sauntered over, her hands coming to rest in your back pockets. "Very good. Made me a little upset that I wasn't there to congratulate you." She raised a brow and your throat bobbed.

"Well..." You said, glancing at the clock - you had a reservation at your favourite barbeque place soon," You scored a fantastic goal last week. I...I think I'd like to congratulate you too."

Alexia gave you a wolfish smile. "Good..." She turned around. "Bedroom still in the same place?"

●～●～●～●～

"We made it work," Alexia says.

"I earned a lot of air miles," You boast," I'm still cashing them in." You grin lazily. "Our trip to Greece was bought off those miles."

Alexia rolls her eyes. "She'll tell anyone who listens about that but it's true. We spent a lot of time flying out to see each other whenever we could. I think we saw each other more than we saw our parents."

You laugh, resting your head on Alexia's shoulder. "I think I once told my parents not to fly out to see me because you were already on the plane."

"And, obviously, one of you proposed. How did that happen?"

"I proposed."

●～●～●～●～

It was a beautiful night. Not too hot. Not too cold. You'd made sure of it, comparing the weather forecast for days before selecting the one you wanted.

You took her out on a walk. You bought her lunch.

Every time she smiled at you, your heart fluttered and you had to look away. You wanted to spring the question each time but you had planned this. You didn't want to ruin it.

"Not that I'm complaining," Alexia said as she followed you onto the balcony of the fancy hotel room you had rented," But what gives? Was there something special today? Something I've forgotten about?"

"Can't I just do something nice for you?"

"You've been doing a lot of nice things. A walk. Lunch. A shopping spree. Dinner and now a hotel room. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me."

You grinned at her. "Is it working?"

"You don't need to seduce me," She said," I don't keep you around for just the sex."

You scoff in jest, a dramatic hand on your heart. "But you keep me around partly for the sex? Alexia!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "You know I keep you around because I love you."

"I should hope so," You said. Your hand dipped into your pocket and dropped to one knee. "Because otherwise, this would be really embarrassing."

●～●～●～●～

"We got married within the month," Alexia says," We eloped. I don't even think we told our parents we even got engaged."

"Your Mama grabbed me by the ear and yelled at me for hours," You laugh, rubbing your ear in phantom pain," I think she thought that I could have stopped you from dragging me to that courthouse."

"I..." Alexia's face glows red as she speaks. "I just didn't want to wait. In all honesty, for us, it already felt like we were married, we'd been together for so many years that getting the marriage certificate signed seemed like just the final checkbox. I didn't need a big wedding or anything. We love each other. What more needed to be done?"

"Her mother still holds it against me."

"Mama is being dramatic." Alexia rolls her eyes. "She got to hold her little party for us."

"We snuck a way for that too," You say to the interviewer," For someone that didn't want a wedding, she was very eager to get to the honeymoon."

"We bought that on her air miles too."

Everyone in the room laughs at that.

"So, childhood sweethearts," The interviewer summarises.

"Childhood sweethearts," You confirm. Alexia moves a bit closer to you, leaning her head on your shoulder after pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"And, now you're living together in Barcelona. Is it a big adjustment after so many years of long distance?"

"It's a good adjustment," Alexia says," It feels good to finally be in the same place as each other, permanently."

"She likes that I get the groceries," You joke.

"Oh, yes," She says with a grin," It's what I keep her around for."

You stick your tongue out.

So does she.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Chapter Four

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

chapter rating: E (18+ ONLY, oral (fem rec), unprotected piv, dirty talk??, unedited/unbeta’d)

word count: 4.3k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

“Alright, everybody. Please remember to fill out your reading log during the break,” you talked over a room full of distracted tweens excited for the upcoming Spring Break. “Am I talking to air?”

“I hear you,” Sarah answered your question as she approached your desk, her backpack slung over her shoulder. “And I wanted to apologize for last Friday. I was having a bad day and Jessie was making a big deal about me leaving the sleepover—“

“Sarah, sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize,” you assured with a kind smile. “Have you talked to Jessie?”

“Yeah, dad took me over to her house on Sunday night and we talked it out. I guess she was offended by me leaving, but I explained to her that I just get anxious sometimes and can’t—“ She sighed. “It just feels better being at home with my dad. I don’t have to try to be funny or cool or whatever.”

You smiled at the tenderness of Joel and Sarah’s bond.

“But anyways,” she continued. “My dad wanted me to ask if you were busy tonight—he still hasn’t gotten a new cellphone which, if you’re wondering, is why he’s having me act as the messenger.”

“Isn’t he coming to pick you up today?”

“No, him and Uncle Tommy are in San Antonio meeting with a developer or something like that,” she informed. “My grandma is picking me up.”

“Oh, well, you can tell your dad I’m free like always,” you chuckled and tried not to think about the fact that as today’s parking lot attendee, you’d have to come face to face with the mother of the man you’d been casually seeing for three weeks now. “Oh, and tell him he needs to get a new phone so you don’t have to play messenger anymore.”

“Trust me, we’ll probably be waiting years until he finally breaks down and gets himself one.” The two of you shared a laugh.

“In that case—“ You jotted your landline and cellphone number on a post-it note. “Here.”

“Miss? My mom wanted me to let you know that I won’t be doing any of my reading logs this week,” another student approached your desk and very sassily delivered his news. You chuckled out a scoff and fixed your attention on him while Sarah went back to her desk.

“Okay, Michael, why won’t you be doing your reading logs?” You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for his response.

“Because it’s Spring Break,” he defended.

“Yes, I’m aware. That’s why I didn’t assign any homework. All you need to do is keep reading at least a chapter a day of your book—“

“I don’t want to read my book. That’s basically homework.”

You gave him an incredulous look as you tried to gather what little patience remained in you after a long year of teaching fifth graders.

“No, Michael. Homework is what Mrs. Hill gave her students—a packet a day. What I’m asking if you is to do what you’re already supposed to be doing—reading a chapter a day of whatever book you want. That’s not homework, that’s just an activity.”

“Well, I’m not doing it.” He remained firm, mimicking your stance by crossing his arms over his chest.

The bell ringing interrupted whatever onslaught of frustration you were just about to bestow upon him, his smug smirk boiling your blood as he turned and shuffled out of class.

“Have a good break,” you called out to the rest of your students as they shuffled out of the classroom in a single file line.

“Hey,” Joel sighed out his greeting as he entered his mother and father’s ranch home on the outskirts of Austin. Sarah was sat in the living room on the floral loveseat covered in plastic while her grandfather, Paul, sat in his rocking chair fast asleep.

“How did it go?” Sarah offered him a smile as he rounded the corner of the loveseat to plop down beside her.

“Went alright,” he replied. “Got a good chunk of jobs lined up for me and the guys, so we’ll be good on work ‘til the end of the year.”

“That’s good!” She beamed, bringing a hesitant smile to her father’s face. Joel never liked to celebrate his successes—something he likely learned from his father. “Oh,” she tapped his arm as she remembered your conversation from earlier, quickly informing him about your lack of plans for tonight. “She also gave me her number to give to you.”

Joel watched as Sarah fished the note out of her pocket before handing over the crumpled up piece of paper.

“You think she’s home yet?” Joel checked his watch.

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “But grandma was talking about all of us going out for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, was she?” Joel looked disappointed by the sudden emergence of plans when he spent all day hoping that tonight would be spent just with you.

“Joel?” Mary, Joel’s mother, came walking down the stairs with a smile. “Bout time you came to see us.”

“I’m busy with the new company, ma, you know that,” he argued as he stood up to greet her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Busy with the company or with your new lady friend?” she teased with a grin. Joel whipped his eyes over to his daughter who already held her hands up in defense.

“My bad.”

Joel chuckled out a scoff before turning back to his mother. “It’s new.”

“And? That’s all you gotta say about her?”

“To you. For now.” Joel followed her into the kitchen, Sarah trailing shortly behind.

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Hunt her down and force her to look at your baby book?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he retorted with a mischievous smile.

“Joel Miller, I swear if you do not give me at least a summary of this woman—“

“Alright, alright,” Joel sighed and looked to Sarah who was beaming with amusement. “She’s Sarah’s teacher. We met at a parent/teacher conference. She’s…nice.”

“Nice?” Both women repeated the descriptor as if it was an insult.

“Dad, you’re basically in love. I’m sure you can find a better word than nice,” Sarah reasoned.

“She is nice. Everything else is private,” he argued.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out at dinner tonight,” his mother shrugged with a smirk. Joel turned wild in the eyes and shook his head.

“No, no, no. She ain’t—y’all aren’t—no.”

Sarah laughed at her dad’s fluster and looped her arm around his waist hug him. “It’ll be okay, pops. Just breathe.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” Joel shook his head again, turning to his mother. “I haven’t even taken her out for a real dinner yet, ma. I’m not invitin’ her out to deal with y’all.”

“Deal with? Son, we are as civilized as anybody else—“

“Ma, you got a plunger? I clogged the damn toilet!” Tommy shouted from upstairs and Joel gestured in his direction as though to prove his point.

“Well not here. We’re in the comfort of our own home,” she defended as she made her way out of the kitchen to help her son. “She’s comin’ tonight! Better go on and call her up.”

“Christ,” he sighed and stomped over to the landline, his scowl fixed on Sarah as he dialed the number. “If she never speaks to us again, it’s on you.”

“She’ll love us.”

Although it wasn’t what you were expecting for the night, Joel’s call to invite you out to dinner with his family was impossible to decline just due to how much you missed him. Even if you turned into a ball of nerves every time you had to meet “the parents”, it was worth it just to be in the same room with him, especially after the day you had.

At seven, Joel, Sarah, and Tommy came to pick you up, but for once it was you running late. You invited them inside to wait while you finished getting ready, handing Sarah the TV remote and watching as her and Tommy instantly started bickering over what to watch while Joel followed you into your bedroom.

“How is this the first time I’ve ever been in your room?” He found a seat on the foot of your bed while you sat at your vanity, finishing up on taming your hair.

“Because I’m old fashioned,” you turned back to give him a wink. “But also because I can’t seem to get you alone long enough to give you a proper tour.”

“I know,” he sighed and walked over to you, standing behind you. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, the warmth and softness of his lips curing something that had been aching inside of you since the last time he kissed you. “I made a deal with my mom. She watches Sarah this weekend, and I suck it up and allow you to meet my chaotic family.”

“Mm, so I get you all weekend is what you’re saying?” You smirked at him through the mirror.

“All. Damn. Weekend.” He kissed your neck as a promise, your eyes fluttering closed as you relished in his proximity. “No interruptions. Just me and you.”

“S-sounds good,” you stuttered through your haze of lust and Joel smiled against your skin, seemingly amused by his effect on you.

“You got chills,” he rasped, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm. “That all me?”

“Just wait until you see what else you do to me,” you purred back, earning a groan of desperation.

“You two done yet?” Tommy called out from the living room. “We got places to be.”

“Save that thought for after dinner,” Joel mumbled against your cheek as he gave you one more kiss.

Five or so minutes later and you were on your way to the restaurant, nerves now replacing the butterflies you felt in your stomach as you thought about what his parents would be like. If they were anything like Tommy, Sarah, and Joel, you had nothing to worry about, but it was the uncertainty that drove you mad.

“You alright?” Joel stayed back with you as you pretended to have forgotten something in the truck, Tommy and Sarah heading into the restaurant to meet up with Joel’s parents.

“Just nervous,” you shrugged with a soft smile. “Anything I should avoid bringing up?”

“Politics. My dad’s a big Republican, so,” he winced. “But my mom is about as liberal as they come, so at least there’s that.”

“So I should stick to talking to your mom, then,” you joked.

“Come on,” he nudged his head towards the restaurant and laced his fingers with yours. “I’ll be right there next to ya, and as soon as we’re done with dinner it’ll be just us all weekend.”

You took a deep breath of courage and gave him a cheeky but bashful smile, bringing a similar one to his own face.

“God, I just can’t help myself—“ Joel cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to meet him as he leaned in for a surprising kiss, your hand finding purchase on his wrist to ground yourself.

“Mm,” you hummed as you pulled away from him earlier than he would’ve liked. “Let’s not stall anymore. Don’t want your mom to think I’m a bad influence.”

“She knows me well enough to know I’m the bad influence, but alright,” he tugged you off towards the restaurant with your hand in his.

As the hostess guided you through the busy dining room, you leaned further into Joel. He didn’t seem to mind the clinginess, his hand letting go of yours so that he could slide an arm around your waist.

“There y’all are!” A stout woman you presumed to be Joel’s mother stood up from the table where the rest of the Millers were seated, a big, dimpled grin on her face that resembled Joel’s.

“Ma,” Joel introduced the two of you by name, his eyes fixed on you as you shook her hand and allowed her to seat you beside her rather than next to Joel like you’d hoped. You gave Joel a nervous look from across the table as he sat himself directly across from you beside his father.

“It is so nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Mary fixed her attention on you. “Joel’s been pretty tight lipped about ya, so why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well,” you chuckled nervously, but Joel’s reassuring eyes from across the table helped calm the frenzy of anxiety coursing through your veins. “I’m a teacher, have been for a few years now but this is my second year in Austin.”

You found it surprisingly easy to talk to Mary, her warm smile and sense of humor similar to that of her children and granddaughter. You told her where you grew up, where you’d been before coming to Austin, about what you liked to do in your free time, but mostly you told her the story of how you and Joel came to be.

Across the table, his father continued to remain stern and silent, only mumbling to his boys or to Sarah every now and again to remind them to use their manners. He seemed like a tough egg to crack, and while you were up for the challenge eventually, earning his respect today seemed unlikely.

“Joel, you ever tell her about your singin’?” Tommy spoke up from down the table, his question bringing a blush to Joel’s face.

“Yeah, I mentioned it.” He looked over to you and cracked the most subtle of smirks, no doubt remembering what occurred shortly after.

“Well, you gonna sing for her?” Mary asked with mischief in her tone, bringing an amused smile to your face.

“Not here,” he sassed, tilting his head at her mockingly.

“Why not here?” You prodded with a smirk, your foot finding his calf beneath the table. Joel gave you a chuckle and shook his head. “Oh, come on. Please?”

“Ya know, I pride myself on my ability to not cave into peer pressure,” he retorted with a quirked eyebrow, daring you to challenge him. You bit your lip and looked down at your plate, too flustered by everything him to look him in the eyes—especially given the current company.

“So, Sarah, how are you likin’ the whole dad datin’ your teacher thing?” Tommy asked, and the question earned the attention of the entire table.

“I don’t mind it,” she shrugged. “Maybe I would if it was Mrs. Clarkson from last year.”

“God,” Joel shook his head at the mere idea. “That woman terrified me and I’m a grown man.”

“Oh,” Sarah called your name. “Did you tell dad about Michael?”

“Michael? Who’s…uh, who’s Michael?” Joel’s jealousy was as clear as day, bringing amused grins to almost everyone’s faces aside from the ever stoic Mr. Miller.

“Michael is my student,” you clarified and eased his concern. “A shitty student at that.”

“Oh yeah?” Tommy asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, he’s—well, I guess I probably shouldn’t be saying this around you, Sarah.”

“I promise I won’t talk about it,” she replied earnestly and you easily caved.

“He is just the absolute worst. And his parents are even shittier,” you lamented with a laugh. “Today he came up to me while Sarah and I were talking at the end of class, and flat out told me that he wasn’t going to be doing the reading log during the break because his mom said so.”

“Why doesn’t he just fake it like everybody else?” Tommy chimed in but quickly received an elbow from his niece.

“I don’t fake my reading logs,” she corrected.

“Yeah…right.” He gave her a sarcastic nod and turned back to you. “I’m just speaking from experience. I never did any of that shit and I turned out…well, I turned out decent.”

“Yeah. Maybe I am being too demanding,” you shrugged, turning back to your plate.

“No,” Joel was quick to interject. “Don’t listen to Tommy—he couldn’t even get into community college. You’re the one who went to school for six years to do this. You know what you’re doin’, that kid’s just a prick.”

You couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little bit as he stood up for you, his foot pressed to yours beneath the table acting as a sort of promise that he’d always be here to do this—to remind you of your worth.

“Thank you,” you mouthed just to him. “Anyways, it’s his loss—and yours too, Tommy. Reading is fun.”

Tommy mimicked your smile and chuckled. “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“Alright, don’t give your grandma a hard time,” Joel ordered Sarah as he hugged her goodbye in the driveway outside your house.

You watched the scene from the doorway, smiling at the way he swayed her and kissed the top of her head. If only all little girls could grow up with a father like Joel—not flawless, but as close to it as a man could get. There was no denying his love for her and vice versa, and the fact that you were being let into this beautiful family felt like nothing less than an honor.

“Alright, go on,” he ruffled the top of her hair with a playful grin. “I love ya, and I’ll see you Sunday night, alright?”

“Love you too,” she gave him one more hug before turning to you standing up the walkway. With a wave, she wished you goodbye as well, your smile widening at the gesture. “See you!”

“See ya, Sarah!”

Joel met you by the front door and watched Tommy and Sarah pull out of your driveway before he turned to you with an anticipatory grin.

“Well, just us now,” he husked, playfulness thick in his southern drawl.

“Whatever will we do?” you teased, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging him closer.

Joel cradled your cheek and jaw with both hands as he leaned down to kiss you, both of you still wearing your grins through it. Walking you backwards into the house, you giggled into his mouth as you nearly stumbled over before he caught you.

“Clumsy,” he accused in a rasp.

“Your fault,” you countered and he laughed against you.

Joel’s hands traveled to your hips to keep you flush against him as he kicked the front door shut, your smiles fading as the kiss deepened into something so filthy even the humor of the almost-fall couldn’t penetrate it.

“God,” he groaned against your lips as he continued walking you through the living room to your bedroom. “I want you so bad, baby girl. Fuck.”

“Remember what we were talking about earlier?” you purred against his jaw as your kisses trailed down to his neck, Joel’s body pinning you against your open bedroom door. He hummed against you in confirmation and you smiled, taking one of his hands off your waist to guide it beneath the linen of your dress, his breath ragged as his fingertip grazed over your thighs until they reached the soaked lace of your panties. “This is what you do to me, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin—baby, I need you,” he whimpered and sunk to the floor in front of you, his dark and dreamy eyes peering up at you for permission as he lifted the hem of your dress up. “Can I taste you?”

“God, you never have to ask,” you moaned back, taking the fabric bunched in his hands and holding it for him. Joel’s eyes dropped from yours down to the image right in front of him, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip at the sight of your white lace thong.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind, baby,” he groaned again, his hands now running up and down the outside of your thighs.

The anticipation could have killed you, your chest heaving and skin prickling with chills from the simple sensation of his breath fanning over the wet spot on your panties, the lust in his eyes. Combing your fingers through his hair, you attempted to silently urge him on and he seemed to pick up on it, his hands sliding back up to your hips to hook into the tiny band of your underwear and slip them down your legs until they were kicked off.

“Baby,” he cooed as you draped one of your knees over his broad shoulders to open yourself up to him, his mouth watering at the sight. “I’m never gonna wanna do anythin’ else but stay right—“ He placed a kiss to your mound and your entire body jerked. “Here.”

His tongue swiped through your folds and you melted against the door behind you, your fingers gripping his hair now as you struggled to stay upright. Joel practically growled at your taste, his hands gripping your thighs as if he was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he tensed his tongue to circle your swollen bud until your arousal started to drip down your thighs. “That’s so good.”

Your praise earned you another growl, his tongue now flicking and circling, lapping and sucking against you until your thighs were shaking from the pressure building in your lower stomach.

“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl.” He sucked your clit and made you cry out his name. “Yeah, just like that. Keep sayin’ my name, baby. Let everyone know.”

“Joel, fuck!” Your orgasm was imminent, the tingling in your thighs that traveled down to your toes and back up your spine fogging any sense of coherency you may have once had in his presence. “I—fuck, I—“

“I know, baby. Can taste it.” He shook his head and flattened his tongue against your clit, his eyes meeting with yours. You wanted to cry, but the pleasure you were feeling was too consuming. The only thing you could do as Joel sucked your now throbbing bud into his mouth was to cry out his name like a prayer—some sort of wicked salvation that beat out any other holier counterpart. “Come on, baby. Cum on my tongue. Wanna taste it…every fuckin’ drop—“

“Fuck!” You crumpled to the ground, your back sliding against the door until you were kneeling with him on the floor, your body shuddering as you rode out the waves of your euphoria.

Joel was quick to act, guiding you down onto your back while you were still lost in bliss. He kissed your face as if you were his most prized possession, his hands worshipping the curves of your still-clothed body.

“Need you, baby,” he whispered against your jaw as he placed a love bite there, your head nodding to give him consent to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to you after that mind blowing climax he just gave you.

You only heard the clinking of his belt buckle before feeling his cock stretch you open, a choked cry slipping from your lips in time with Joel’s wanton groan. You peeled your eyes open and looked down at the place you were joined, delighting in the fact that neither of you were undressed, the neediness of the moment turning you both feral.

“God damn,” he groaned and let his head hang as he stilled himself deep inside of you after only a few thrusts. “About to embarrass myself. You feel too fuckin’ good, baby.”

“Don’t worry about lasting long,” you stroked his beard. “I just wanna feel you.”

“God, I—” He choked on his words and leaned over your body, propping himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his jean-clad ass to urge him on, desperate to feel him spill inside of you.

“Want you to cum for me,” you moaned, pressing kisses into the side of his face as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. “Cum inside me—“

“Fuck,” he shouted as his cock thrust into you faster and deeper, your wetness squelching around him and filling the room along with both of your ragged moans. “I’m gonna—fuck, baby. You sure?”

“I’m on birth control, it’s okay,” you promised. Joel lifted his head to look into your eyes, his face scrunched up in something akin to agony but you were sure it couldn’t have been further from it.

“Gonna fill you up, beautiful,” he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. “Gonna have you dripping for me.”

“Yes!” His cock was hitting something inside of you that was making you see stars, your mind going back to that pleasure-dumb state you’d just been lost in, and before you had time to warn him, your walls fluttered in time with his cock spilling inside of you. “I’m coming, Joel, fuck!”

“Me too, baby,” he choked out through a string of profanity and moans. “Fuck, so fuckin’—you’re perfect.”

The two of you stayed there for a while, both of you turned into puddles of post-climactic bliss as you laid in each other’s arms. Joel hissed as he pulled out and rolled over onto the carpet beside you, both of you turning your heads to look at each other with wide, almost childlike grins.

“Be my girlfriend?” Joel choked out, nerves thick in his shaky voice. You laid there speechless for a moment, unsure of how to tell him that ever since you met him you’d been dreaming of the day those words would leave his lips. So, you kept it simple, a smile gracing your face as you reached over to hold his face.

“I would love to.”

[solarpunkani]

hi would like to make this clear that this is gonna be an unhinged rant about my college classes.

For context, one of my classes is a semester-long group project (hell) and I pitched the idea of solar powered community fridges to my group and we rolled with it. Here's a post i made on it previously. We don't have to make the fridges themselves, basically just talk about the problem our concept addresses (food insecurity in this case) and how we think this concept would work and how, in a hypothetical reality where we made it real, we would test to see if it worked.

Anyways we had to post the rough draft of our presentations so people in other groups could see what we were doing and comment on them with their thoughts and all. Yknow. Classic 'college class discussion board have to reply to at least one project with quality feedback' stuff. And

Man.

I am so frustrated.

Highlights:

My group keeps insisting that we should have an app for the solar fridges. I don't know why they think app design needs to fit into community fridges but they put it into the draft posted to the forum.

In this case they proposed the app would be kinda like Instacart? Where people who want to donate to the fridges but don't have groceries on them and don't feel like going to get groceries can put in money and then people will then go buy the groceries to put in the fridge. Or use the funds to help with fridge maintenance. And the fridges would have 'QR codes, links, etc. to connect community members for the common cause of helping tackle food insecurity in the community.'

Lots of the comments were pretty good! People liked the idea. There were some concerns about insulation and keeping things cool with low energy cost (the program is online but the college itself is in Georgia USA so many people are in Georgia) but yknow.

But the frustrating part to me I guess is that a lot of people seem convinced that people would use the fridges 'unfairly' and that we'd need to find a way to restrict how much food people can take out or how many times they can use it or something. Which frankly in my opinion defeats the purpose of it being a community fridge. Here are some examples of things people have said so far (comments are due tomorrow evening but I'm mad now so I'm venting now):

One student said "How will you know if the pantry is being utilized fairly?" and "How will the app work? In a dream world, this might be a way to help with tracking and accountability. (Just a thought…) Maybe folks would need to sign up on the app, they get a code… and the fridge acts as a sort of vending machine to deliver what they need. This would give you data to measure success. :)"

Which. I just. This feels completely antithetical to the purpose of a community fridge??? Or a community anything???? Little free pantries and little free libraries don't operate on a 'you get a code to access it once' vending machine basis?? We even mentioned community farm stalls/community pantries in the draft write up! And showed examples!

Another student said "Great thoughts. I am concerned about one person taking all the food for themselves. It might be a great idea to have them in an enclosed area with access control through the app that would log and lock out people who are overusing the resource. Perhaps a barcode could be added to Apple Wallet to track each individual's arrival? Possibly having a mechanized lock and opening mechanism that would only allow each fridge to be open for a specific time before automatically closing and locking? Each scan would only allow access once each 24-48 hour period, preventing "password sharing.""

I cannot emphasize enough that this is the comment that has brought me here today because with all due respect what the flying fuck do you think is the point of a community fridge! I'm already prickly about the idea of limiting access to the fridge itself to only people with cellphones, but to this degree?! Like maybe its because I'm the one who came up with the concept and I care about terms like 'mutual aid' and 'community building' and 'judgement free accessibility to food' but have these people not heard of the concept of helping people?!?! With no strings attached?!? If someone takes all the contents of a community fridge or pantry--which, seriously, how likely is that--they're probably hungry and need it! The concept of putting community resources behind a lock and limiting accessibility is just repulsive to me???

Like someone else commented with this excellent point--"As several have addressed above, I am also wondering how would you monitor use? If you use the simplicity of the honor system, it could easily be taken advantage of. However, I feel like if you were to create some sort of access code, how is it to say that they people needing the use of the fridge will have access to the necessary technology to get the code? It's a tricky situation to think about." For the purposes of this hypothetical assignment where we'd need to track how many people are using the fridges? Yeah I guess we'd need to be able to track how many people use it and when. But in reality??? In real life reality where people are living and struggling and hungry??? I just don't really give a shit!! Helping five people is better than helping none, and locking access behind technology everyone pretends is universal but really isn't is not the way to help!

And of course one of my groupmates is already commenting on all these posts like 'oh! I really like the idea of restricting access to a code! :)' even when someone said 'hey my family struggled with food insecurity when I was a kid and I think this would be helpful but not if you could only access it with an app some of the most vulnerable citizens wouldn't be able to access it I wouldn't have been able to access it' my groupmate was still like 'oh but that wouldn't be a problem today now would it? :) Maybe we should make a way to get a code without downloading the app :)' like maybe there shouldn't be an access code in the first place?!?!

Like am I crazy or like. What the fuck. Again I am here so I don't blow up on a bunch of masters students in a discussion post but like UGH

"you gotta be able to gague if the people who're using it are the people who actually need it" food insecurity can look so many different ways for so many different reasons and you can't always judge by appearances and income levels who is struggling to feed themselves or their families!! There are people who have nice jobs who are struggling because they're caring for sick family members or kids or dealing with student loans or ANYTHING! There are people with nice clothes who are trying to decide between buying groceries and paying rent! There are people living in their cars or couch surfing looking for jobs who also happen to own an XBox or a Laptop!!! "Sorry you can't access the community fridge because you don't look poor and needy enough to me. but if you do, good news--you can only use it once every 48 hours so make it last!" Bullshit utter bullshit.

I talk to people in my life about things like community fridges and little free pantries and mutual aid and the like and people are always like 'ok but theres gotta be strings attatched' BUT ACTUALLY NO THERE DON'T GOTTA!!! Maybe we could change how we view our fellow human beings and stop assuming that everyone around you are greedy little demons looking to ruin everything good and that you are the only holy and righteous saint on the streets who understands the concept of 'community resources' and 'sharing' maybe??? It's like that post about community fruit trees where people are like 'oh but what if people steal all the fruit' like HELLO? how do you STEAL a PUBLICALLY ACCESSIBLE RESOURCE

I'm tired of this goddamn class I'm tired of this goddamn group project if anyone actually has the ability to make a solar powered community fridge you have to promise to keep it accessible and not put it behind locks and QR codes and limited access and facial tracking BS promise me promise me promise me

[fruitywritter]

Two Hearts • | Part 1 |

Part 2

Summary: Things have been rough lately, Christmas are getting closer and you find yourself on top of the astronomy’s tower to clear your head. But who knew that this night you would meet someone so special to you.

Pairing: Hermione Granger x gn!reader

Tw: depression? Fluff

Words: 2.2k

A/n: Last post for the 2023 year, this one was in my drafts and I was planning to write more. I guess now it’s going to be more parts (?) If you guys like it (:

It was late, past midnight for sure. You couldn’t sleep, you weren’t even tired. You just laid there in your bed facing the ceiling. You always had that problem, not being able to sleep, but tonight your insomnia was worse than usual. Also your depressing thoughts didn’t help that much tonight. You would usually read a book or talk with your roommates until you felt tired but this time you knew it wouldn’t work. It was already late and everybody was sleeping. So you decided to do the one thing that you were sure it would work. Going on a walk around the castle.

Even though you didn’t do that very often, you always enjoyed it. Walking through the dark halls of the castle was something comforting to you, it made you feel free and relaxed. Your favourite place was the astronomy tower. Other people would think that it was crazy, walking around all alone in the darkness. But to you, it was comforting, it was the only time of the day that you were really alone. It was the only time where you could think clearly and be alone with your thoughts.

You put on your shoes quickly, grabbing your wand and sweater on the way to the door. Before you exited you pulled the cloth on and took one last glance behind you at your sleeping roommates. You walked quickly through the common room and outside in the hallway. It was kind of chilly out and you were thankful that you took your sweater with you. It was near Christmas days and probably in a few days snow would cover all over the place. Winter was your favourite season, you loved snow and you loved cold weather.

Climbing the stairs to the astronomy’s tower you couldn’t help but think about the holidays. Almost everyone would go back to their families to celebrate, but you. It’s not like you had anyone to go back to. Your friends had already planned going home so you were the only one staying at Hogwarts.

When you finally reached the top of the tower you started walking towards the railing. You looked down at the lake and mountains taking in the view. A soft cough made you turn back, taking in a sight of another person sitting at the steps. How did you not notice that there was already someone there. But then again, nobody usually came there, especially at this late hour. You started walking closer, trying to see who was there, only to be met with a pair of brown eyes. The moonlight shined through them, making them glow. “I’m sorry I didn’t know that there was someone already there..” You apologised to the girl in front of you. She had a book sitting on her lap and her wand on her right hand.

“It’s alright, not many people come here so I was also kind of shocked when I saw you walk up the stairs.” You heard her voice, it was soft and gentle. She had a beautiful voice, an angelic one. You stood there in front of the girl, not knowing what to say as you were at a loss of words. Usually that didn’t happen, but there was something about that girl, it made you nervous. You never really interacted with her, sure you’d hear her talking while in class as you two shared a few classes together, such as potions and charms. But you never introduced yourselves to each other. You realised you hadn’t said anything so you cleared your throat and let a small smile.

“That’s true. I was also shocked to find you up here, I don’t come here often, only when I need some quiet, you know?” You said, beginning to walk towards her. You took a seat beside her, not too far but not too close, you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“Trust me, I know. I come here for the same reason, this place has something unique. I like to read books here, other days I just sit and watch the stars on the sky.” She spoke so quietly, closing her book and slightly turning her body towards you, “I believe we’ve never got to introduce ourselves, I’m Hermione Granger.” She smiled and extended her hand for you to shake.

You happily took it with yours, “That’s a lovely name. I’m Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” You nodded with a little smile, of course you knew her last name. You had heard countless times the professors calling her “Miss Granger”. But you’ve never got to know her first name until now and you couldn’t help yourself but to compliment her. Not going to lie, you always had a little crush on her deep down. Even though you’ve never spoke to her, every time she was in the same room you eyes would always find her.

But you never had the courage to go and actually talk to her, you were that much of a coward. You also couldn’t talk about her to your Slytherin friends, since they would probably curse you about her being a Gryffindor and a “mudblood”. You didn’t like that word, it was really offending. As a Slytherin, many would thought that you would be the classic stereotype. You were a pure blood, but you didn’t have any problems with muggleborns. You actually had many friends from other houses that were muggleborns.

You watched as Hermione slightly blushed and tried to hide it. Pulling a strand behind her ear, she smiled. “Y/n, it sounds unique.” At that you let out a laugh, “Oh believe me, it’s not that unique. My parents gave it to me after they read it on a book.. My dad was like a bookworm back in the day as he had told me, I bet he didn’t have to try hard to find a name for his child.” You chuckled, thinking about him was sad. It all happened so fast that you still hadn’t got used to it even after all these years.“I like it.” Hermione giggled as it was time for you to blush. Wow taking a compliment from Hermione was the best feeling.

“So, what were you reading?” You asked, moving closer to her to take a look from the cover of her book.

“Oh that? It’s nothing, just a stupid book I bought last summer. I didn’t get to finish it, I usually only read school books. But I can’t deny it, it’s really good.” She spoke, taking the book in her hands and showing you the familiar cover.

“So you’re like a little bookworm? I already knew that you’re a great student but reading school books only?” You teased her, “that’s a great book by the way, I read it once. The end had me crying for two days, but I won’t be spoiling you anything else.” You added with a chuckle as you playfully bumped your shoulder with hers.

“I’m not a bookworm, I just like reading books and studying. But it’s not like I have my head inside a book the whole time..” She said, trying to act offended but you could she the small smirk on her lips. You muttered a “yeah right.”and she smacked you playfully on your shoulder making you two laugh. After you calmed down she spoke again, “So what made you come up here? You said you needed quiet.” Hermione asked, looking up to your eyes.

“Oh you know, just life..” You sighed, turning away not really knowing what to say. “I couldn’t sleep. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot, I have so many things on my mind and it’s getting kind of crowded in there. So I tend to escape from all of this, even if it is for a bit.”

Thoughts of your dead father and your alcoholic mother who got herself lost came into your mind without your consent. Thinking about the things you could do to avoid all of these shit to happen. You came up here to escape from all of these but here you are now thinking about it.

A soft hand on your shoulder brought you back to the present as you turned on your right, looking at those brown eyes. “I get that, I know it hurts not being able to escape from your thoughts. But if you ever want to talk to somebody, just know that I’m here and I’d love to hear you.” She smiled comforting at you. There was something about her, you couldn’t exactly catch on it but it felt familiar. You found comfort around her.

“Thank you, Hermione.” You tried your best to smile and leaned back against the wall behind you.

“I have to say, I’m surprised..” She spoke suddenly after a few minutes of silence. You turned to look at her, your face full of curiosity. “You’re nice to me, even though you’re a Slytherin and I’m a Gryffindor, our houses hate each other, and here you are being nice towards me.”

“Not all Slytherins are bad, Hermione.. I mean sure, there is a small hate between our houses but I don’t really care about all of these. Those stereotypes about the Slytherins being evil is an absolute lie in my opinion. It’s just the human character.” You sighed, you never hated Gryffindors. It was the opposite actually, you respected them. They were brave and loyal, well the most of them at least.

“Yes I know, I’m sorry I didn’t want it to come out mean. I just thought that you might be like the others. You know, Malfoy, Parkinson and the others. They usually like to call us names and I’m pretty sure they really, really hate us.” Hermione explained.

I nodded in understatement, “Yeah, they like to uh, bully people..” You and Draco were friends the first year, but eventually when you saw how he treated others you confronted him. Nothing changed so you decided to leave, you didn’t support him for that. He would have been a great person if he wasn’t that much of a jerk and a bully. You also almost punched him when you heard him calling Hermione a “mudblood”, Potter was quicker than you as he casted a spell throwing him on the wall behind him. That happened last year but it still made you angry as you imagined how many times Malfoy had bullied the girl beside you. “Hey, I’m sorry for that. They’re jerks for doing that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologise for them. I’m used to it by now.” She said trying to smile but you knew that she pretended to be okay with it. It pained you seeing her like that. You scooted closer, placing your arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards you.

“Got any plans for Christmas holidays?” You asked, trying to change the subject. You started running your thumb over her arm, waiting for her to talk.

“Not really, I’ll just stay here this year. Harry and Ron also decided to stay so we will spent the holidays together.” She mumbled as her head laid on your torso. Hermione liked your touch, it was comforting and warm. “What about you?” She added, looking up to you with those eyes.

“Well, I love spending Christmas at Hogwarts, it’s really beautiful here and peaceful when almost half the school isn’t here..” You chuckled, it wasn’t really a lie. It was just one of the reasons why you stayed. The other one being because even if you went home, there would be no one there. So you preferred not being alone in a house that brought you so much memories.

“Oh well, we can spend it together then!” Hermione said with an excited voice, “if you haven’t already planned with your friends, of course..” She added, feeling a bit of nervousness. What if you didn’t want to?

“Yeah, sure. I’d love to spent it with you. All of my friends will be going home anyways so I wasn’t planning anything.” You said, your voice also expressed excitement as you looked down at Hermione.

She smiled and blushed, probably you did too. You stayed like this for longer, just enjoying the company of one other. Eventually you had to go back to sleep so you two began walking back to your dorms. You offered to walk Hermione to her common room, after her denying it and you saying that you’d love to. You found yourselves making a small talk while walking the nearly dark hallways. Eventually you stopped outside of the fat lady’s portrait, you turned to Hermione who stood there looking at you.

“I had a great night, Hermione. Thank you.” You smiled, watching the brown eyed girl smile back at you.

“No, thank you. I liked your company, you’re really not that boring..” She teased you and you laughed quietly at that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked with a hopeful voice.

“Definitely.” She confirmed.

“Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Y/n.” You watched as she turned around and said the password to the portrait. She then got inside and turned one last time, giving you a smile before she disappeared inside the tunnel. With that you turned and left with a grin on your face. You were tired but you couldn’t stop thinking about her. The moment your head hit the bed you fell immediately asleep, having dreams about that beautiful girl you met today at the astronomy tower.

[zedif-y]

Inspired by this post by @transfemzedaph

i did attempt to not make this zedango. alas it is inevitable when it comes to my writing

---

"Would you look at that," Zedaph mutters, mostly to himself. (Herself? She's trying to stay in character here.) He turns his face this way and that, drinking in his reflection, all long lashes and rosy cheeks. He never did get a good look at it in his hurry. "Don't I look gorgeous."

Zedaph makes a mental note to thank Cleo after all this.

...Though, honestly, whoever's in charge of shining this tray should also really get a round of applause, Zedaph thinks. It's like a mirror.

Footsteps come up behind him, stopping at his side. Ah.

"So," Tango starts, "Grian's dead."

"Griande," Zedaph corrects.

"Right, sorry. Griande's dead."

"Shame."

Tango's lips quirk up, "Did you kill her?" Zedaph sighs.

"Unfortunately not."

Tango laughs, "I don't know what I expected."

"Neither do I," Zedaph mutters. He— ah, to hell with it. She pulls her lipstick out of her purse, "The others seem to have it handled, though."

Zedaph touches up the lipstick, pressing her lips together the way she's seen others do, smiling a little just to see the way it looks. Tango quiets at her side.

Then, "Hate to break character here, but Zed, you helping or what?"

Zedaph tsks, not bothering to turn from the mirror. "I don't know a Zed. My name is Rosamund, darling."

Tango rolls his eyes. At least, Zed assumes he did. Very Tango thing to do, that.

"Well, Rosamund," Tango— Mr. Waltz, tonight. Grian thinks he's funny— says. "There's a super interesting murder mystery going on right now, and you've been in front of this tray for," He checks his watch. It's golden, fancy, and laughably easy to break. "About 90 percent of it. Care to share with the class?"

Zedaph doesn't answer. Instead, she pulls back, tucks her red lipstick away into her purse. She squints her eyes, messing with her curls.

"Do you think this suits me?" Zedaph asks, her voice smaller. Quieter. Almost a whisper. "I mean— the getup. Makeup and dress and all that."

"It does," Tango replies easily, voice softer to match hers. Zedaph's not good with tone on a good day, but... "You look pretty."

Her heart does a thing. She doesn't know what, but it did a thing. Should get that checked.

Zedaph turns to face Tango— she needs to know if he's joking, red eyes alight with humor and a stupid grin on his face. Needs to know if by pretty he meant pretty silly, why would you even ask—

She looks, and then her thoughts falter and fade into oblivion.

Tango's looking at her, too, something warm in his gaze that makes Zed want to squirm or wipe off with a stupid comment. His cheeks are flushed pink.

It's piercing in the way Tango's gaze always is, slightly intense and burning right through her. Zedaph thought she had gotten used to it, and she has, mostly.

But right now it's kind of disconcerting.

(...Or, it's kind of nice.)

(Who said that.)

"I might be a girl," Zedaph says, instead of literally any of that. Tango blinks. "Tonight has been pretty eye-opening."

Zedaph frowns, "Except for Griande, I guess."

That startles a laugh out of Tango. "That's messed up!"

"She's fake dead, it's fine!"

"She'll make you real dead if you aren't careful," Tango tells her. "But— yeah? You think so?"

Zedaph shrugs, "I've been wondering about it for a while. This just hammered it in."

"Well, congrats," Tango nudges her with his side, grinning as he looks back at their reflections, seeing them side by side. "And welcome to the club, uh...?"

Something blossoms in Zedaph's chest, happy and tingly as she leans against Tango.

"Still Zedaph," she says. "And... He or she works. I think."

Then, only loud enough for the two of them, "Thanks, Tango."

[justanotherfanartist]

taps mic. ahem.

help a student write a dumb rvb research paper? pretty please?? for funsies???

This is exactly what it sounds like.

My current final of the year for my language composition class is a massive synthesis + argumentative research paper on any topic of our choosing, and Roosterteeth + RVB has too much messy junk going on that I’m knee-deep invested in mentally at this point to pass up the opportunity to write about it.

And yknow, I see a ton of media analysis posts coming out of the fandom all the time and I’ve always loved seeing it and reading into it and sharing ideas and whatnot and this feels like my way of doing that too.

Essentially what I’m reaching out for is for you guys to help me crowdsource resources and share your ideas with me to include in my term paper*.

things that would be wizard cool of you to send me are:

any interviews or behind the scenes with the cast and creators you happen to know of

your own analysis or hot takes of the characters or the show as a whole

what the show has meant to you

any clips of old Roosterteeth expos

for the older fans, a rough idea of what the release timeline looked like for the episodes and what the buildup and fan reaction was for each one

any commentary or hot takes on how the fandom has changed since you joined/that you know of

what Roosterteeth did wrong (writing wise and irl)

what Roosterteeth did right (writing wise and irl)

tropes within the show you noticed whether originated by the show or not

tropes within the fandom, things like similar portrayals or bad/good takes on characters or face canons that span artists

literally anything you can give me, media, commentary, or opinion wise

(not to say I can’t find things on my own, I already have, but this is also about varying opinions and the general outlook of the fandom as a whole and measuring the broader impact of a show like RvB and it would be incredibly cool of you to help me out even with just crumbs of character opinions)

The idea is to get evidence together from clips, personal anecdotes, and opinions so I can present an accurate read on the fandom, especially when it comes to fan interpretation of RVB vs Roosterteeth’s intentions for the show (and behavior as a company) and explore what the show was supposed to be, what it literally is, how people see it, what its impact has been, and a general overview of the it’s legacy and lifespan, that sort of thing.

My thesis is most likely going to end up something in the ballpark of “How Roosterteeth exemplifies the Franchisation of Indie Media” or “Why RvB is one of the most complicated/misunderstood/divisive shows in modern media” or “How Fandoms interpret and recontextualize media”

I’m going to guess that I likely won’t be able to post the finished paper up online without a solid buffer window to avoid the two mortifying scenarios that are (a) being accused of creative plagiarism and (b) having to tell my instructor that the tumblr account with a 100% match to my course final is, in fact, my tumblr account, are two things I desperately want to avoid.

However if I can, simply for the sake of contributing to the fandom and creating something for us to all contribute to and discuss and crediting various peoples’ help and input would be ideal and, if at all possible, that would be the end goal.

so yeah. if you’re up for it I’d love for you to dm me your thoughts or (more conveniently for the both of us) fill out this Google form down here!

*im not gonna, like, repost your detailed character analysis as my own or something. I’m just trying to find some good quotes, general opinions, and ideas from the fandom so that I can accurately represent them and do our little corner of the internet Justice. And also because the audience of a work is a massive factor in media analysis lmfao. and also to create a community sourced Fun Thing™️ we can all look at and bite the corners off of instead of watching Roosterteeth crash and burn in the backgroun

[piccolos-bigtoe]

Meow... Hello... It has been a few days. OH MY GOD. I am sooo freaking busy WHAT THE BALLS.... About to go to bed but I wanted to upload these... CHeck it, two of my book covers, ones got tha snipahhh and my guy on it even tho I said I wouldn't put sniper on it I'm a LIAR and I couldn't stop myself, whagever it's fine. I <3 yellow stock pulp paper overlay it makes everything look good. I WIll say, these re not my final versions, I finalized them in indesign but they had my last name on them and I couldn't crop it out so I SWEAR THE WORD PLACEMENT LOOKS NICER THAN THIS!!!! + my MADAME book actually has words on it in the final version but again, don't want to share my last name since it's kind of uncommon hahaha

My sibling told me that I had to tell all of you guys about this AWFUL mistake I made... Omfg, I had looked on tumblr right before talking to my prof to ask if I could skip out early on class that day cause it was a work day, and so like I open up tumblr and see some medic art, then I walk up to my prof and instead of saying "hey m_(insert teacher's name)" I fucking say "Hey medic" I HAVE TO DROP OUT!!!!!!!!!!! I got SO god damn flustered like HOLY HELL!!!!!!!!! I was jus like "Oh my god, this can't be my life right now, this can't be happening to me, this can't be!!!!!!!!" My only defense is that his name also starts with an M. God save me.

I will get back to my regularly scheduled TF2 posting soon I promise... I REALLY miss drawing TF2 even though I guess technically I spent like all of two days making a TF2 book cover but it's not the same... ERMMM I feel like I had something else to say but I was probably just gonna whine about liek,, idk, being busy.

I'm actually in the process of considering switching majors because I love graphic design so much LOL so we will see where this goes.... Perchance,, graphic design tf2 arc moment.... OKay I'm going to bed now.

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter two: lips of an angel

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 5.1k

a/n: thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing this series for me <333 love you bestie, the only one i'd wanna be a sister wife with

To: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Nice To Meet You?

Hey,

I got an email that we were matched for Sweet Temptations. I figured I would reach out and introduce myself, maybe get to know you a bit if you are alright with that.

Feel free to call me Javi. I am honestly not sure what else I’m meant to do in an introduction like this. I promise I am normally much smoother than this, or at least more human and less awkward.

It’s nice to meet you, and to be matched up with you, Angel. If that’s what I should call you?

J

From: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Re: Nice To Meet You?

Hi Javi!

It’s nice to meet you too, and hopefully, we get to meet in person. These first emails are always awkward no matter how many I’ve sent or received, so please be assured that, honestly, that was one of the better ones I’ve gotten. :) 

I normally like to ask what you’re looking for out of this “arrangement” (I hate calling it that, it sounds so impersonal) and maybe you can tell me some fun facts about you if you want to share!

I can go first for the fun facts:

Green is my favorite color

I unironically love the song MMMBop by Hansen (which is unexpected if you saw the rest of my tape and CD collection)

My current favorite movie is Romeo + Juliet that came out a couple of years ago cause Paul Rudd <3

That’s about all that I can think of as I sit in bed and type this so hopefully that is sufficient enough!

TTYL Javi,

Angel

To: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Re: Re: Nice To Meet You?

Hey Angel

Paul Rudd is pretty likable, I’ll give you that. Is he your type? Cause I hate to break it to you sweetheart but I don’t really look like him. Both have dark hair but that’s about where the similarities stop. And Romeo + Juliet huh? Must be a bit of a romantic.

And MMMBop…it is catchy. I have to stop myself humming it at work these days.

As for what I’m looking for, I guess I just want someone to spend some time with. Whatever comes of it, comes of it, but I don’t want to really have any expectations. Just wanna get to know you, Angel.

Took me a while to think of some fun facts:

I grew up on a cattle ranch right on the border of Mexico in Southern Texas

When I was little (like 9/10 years old) my primos dared me to enter a rodeo for Mutton Busting (chasing a sheep around to try to catch it)

A CD of Selena stays in my car at all times, and yes, I know all the words

Hope those were fun enough for you, Angel.

And I hope you have a good day today.

J

The emails continued for about a week and a half, Javier slowly became more comfortable with the virtual communications. Angel was bubbly, and sweet, always asking him questions and always interested in hearing about his day or what his favorite book was. It was either his loneliness or a newfound desperation that had his heart skipping when the sound of new mail pinged from his desktop.

It felt a bit strange to have such normal exchanges with Angel and be reminded of the circumstances with his bank statement for the charges that the service takes monthly. With how personable Angel has been even via email, he finds himself forgetting what exactly brought them together. Maybe all the mystery and excitement will wear off when the two of you meet, but something deep in his gut is telling him that isn’t going to happen.

He drags himself away from his desk, no response from Angel yet today. All he can think about is how he hopes there’s a new message when he comes back, gathering his things to head to the lecture hall for the third week of Sociology of Deviance.

In the beginning, he thought this class was going to be a chore to do. Stuck onto his schedule last minute, had new material to cover, and had an annoying Dean of Faculty checking in on him much more often because of it. However, a handful of sessions in, he’s got a bit of a skip in his step to rush over there, the familiar jump in his stomach when he thinks about you.

The pretty fall floral dresses you’ve started wearing with the change in weather, large cardigans pulled over the top. You’ve worn a few flannels over your shoulders, clearly oversized and he feels a prick of jealousy whenever he sees you in them.

Do you have a boyfriend? Are those shirts his?

What would you look like in one of his button-downs?

Christ, the thoughts won’t stop no matter how hard he tries. Another reason why he is attempting to completely throw himself into this new “arrangement”, hoping it would be a means to an end to his crush on his student.

That’s what it is. He has a fucking crush.

He hasn’t had a crush in years.

Laying everything out for the class session, he starts writing the discussion points on the board. At the sound of the door violently swinging open and a rumble of loud footsteps rushing, he looks over his shoulder to see you, belongings in your arms and clearly flustered. His jaw drops open to ask if you’re alright, making a burning flash of eye contact with you before you drop your head, embarrassed, and find your seat.

Turning back to the chalkboard, he shakes his head minutely, rolling his shoulders before continuing his writing, white powder from the chalk coating his fingers. Instead of his normal thoughts of you, he keeps fighting the urge to ask if you’re okay. In the short time he’s known you if you could even say that about your dynamic, he knows it’s very unusual for you to come in that incomposed. He wipes the residue off on his pants, facing the class. 

While he teaches, his eyes continue to wander to you, oddly quiet when you would normally be engaged in the discussion. That kid Alex, obnoxious from the jump, is taking up far too much air time in this class, and Javier can’t help the annoyance on his face as he leans back against the desk, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for this kid to finish his long-winded, and incorrect answer.

You scoff audibly at a point that Alex made, piquing Javier’s attention. The two of you make eye contact again, and Javier suddenly unravels one arm from his chest, holding it up toward Alex.

“Excuse me, Alex, I respect your points but I think there might be some counters to your arguments. I want to be able to hear them before we move on,” Javier calls out your name, and his head snaps to you, nodding encouragingly, “What were your thoughts?”

“Oh, um, I was going to say that I don’t think that socioeconomic or social standing is the only explanation for the makeup of the prison system. And I think it’s pretty naive to think that it’s only rich people that get off with less severe punishments.” Javier watches your shoulders tense a bit at the obvious eye roll from Alex, the pen in between your fingers bouncing with nerves.

“Do you mind expanding on that? I’m interested in what you think is another reason,” Javier holds eye contact with you, the slightest smile on his face to reassure you to stand your ground in the argument.

“I mean, to me, It’s pretty obvious that the biggest reason is racial discrimination in the legal process. White people dominate the political landscape and the prejudices, even unconscious bias, contribute to the makeup of the incarcerated population. Judges will give favorable or less severe punishments to white defendants, and of course, class biases are a thing, especially because of the cost of criminal defense, but I think the overt, umbrella reason is racial discrimination in the legal process. It’s built into the systems of government, which is pretty depressing…”

You trail off and laugh awkwardly at the silence in the room, some classmates nodding in agreement while some are unphased, uninterested. 

“That’s good. That’s exactly what I was hoping would be brought up by someone,” Javier nods to you, pointing in your direction before he rounds the desk to start writing on the board for students to take down in their notes.

In your seat, you start to copy down into your notebook, glancing up to see him look over his shoulder at you. One corner of his mouth lifts, a smile in his eyes as you try to bite back your own grin that threatens to expose how much you enjoyed his short praises.

From: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Wanna Meet Up?

Hiiii Javi

I’ve had such a shitty day today, but honestly, I was still excited to be able to come home and talk to you. :)

Do you think you’d be interested in meeting in person this weekend? I’m free Saturday night if you are. LMK!

Hope your day was better than mine!

xoxo,

Angel

Plans were made to meet Saturday night around eight o’clock. Javier had chosen a bar he’d become familiar with on those nights when he couldn’t sleep, when the memories of Colombia were too much when he couldn’t stop thinking about those damn boats that were in his backyard.

The place is small, intimate, and quiet enough to hold a conversation — which he knew from the one or two times he’d picked up someone and brought them back to his apartment. There was always some sort of live music, usually some jazz or folksy blues, that could fill any first-date awkward silences.

In his last email to her, Javier told Angel that he’d be in the back of the bar, at a table for two, wearing jeans and a red short-sleeve button-up shirt. He makes sure to arrive first, getting there a bit overly early at 7:30 to snag a table and order himself a drink to calm his nerves. Pounding the glass back on the bar top, he orders another whiskey neat to nurse until she arrives.

This is a different feeling than he’s had before a date. Nerves aren’t normally his thing when it comes to women, but something about this night feels higher stakes than before.

Get it together, Javi. It’s a date, if it goes horribly, you don’t have to do it again. Plus, she doesn’t even need to be interested in you, this is her job.

When you arrive at the tiny, hole-in-the-wall bar, you nod thanks to the man holding the door for you, rolling your eyes when you get a comment from him that you didn’t ask for.

“Nice tits, sweetheart.” He slurs and sends you a wink that is definitely more of a blink. You slip past him without issue, scanning the small area for the man with dark hair and a red shirt on. At this point, with how many times you’ve done this, you’re normally not nervous to meet these men in person. It’s something you’re obligated to do, like showing up for any other job, and that’s how you treat it.

But this time around, something’s different. Talking with Javier has actually been….nice? He’s responsive and wants to get to know you, never taking more than a day to get back to you. He’s asked you more questions about yourself than anyone else has before and he always, always wants to hear about your day. If you weren’t careful, you could see yourself getting attached.

Well, getting attached if he’s anything like you’ve imagined him. Or who you’ve imagined him to be.

The only red shirt you can spot is on a man sitting at a table toward the back, facing away from the door and toward the stage in the corner where a jazz trio is playing a low, crooning song. Biting back a smile, you start to make your way over to him, admiring him from behind.

It’s broad shoulders and a strong neck, muscles flexing as he adjusts in his seat. His dark, chocolatey hair is combed nicely, so much so that you can’t help but have the thought of running your fingers through it and messing it up.

Dressed in a black dress with blotted red lips, you weave in between people, ignoring anyone else as you keep your eyes on the man you’re here to meet. Javi stays facing forward, watching the band play even as you stand behind him, cheated to his side a bit. Holding your breath, you lean closer and tap him on his shoulder.

“Um, excuse me, Javi?”

At the sound of his name, Javier turns over his shoulder to his right, a smile on his face already from the honeyed kindness in her voice. She did really sound like an angel for a second there before he realized where the sound was coming from.

“Yeah, I’m Ja—“ The sound stops in his throat when he is facing you. Your supple lips with the dainty Cupid’s bow, rouged cheeks, and gentle smile; normally in a nice dress or cardigan in class, but here you’re wearing much less material, more of your skin on display.

What would it be like to kiss it?

No. That is not ever going to happen.

Those doe eyes hold an innate tenderness that he couldn’t imagine ever being privy to, but here he was, under the stare of those and it was making him sweat. He can only imagine what he looks like to you at the moment, eyes wide and mouth blubbering to speak like a fish gasping for air.

You recognized him at the same time, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the word vomit threatening to come out. If it did, you know you would end up spilling how honestly excited you are that the man you’ve been emailing with has turned out to be Professor Peña. You’ve harbored a bit of a crush on him for the last few weeks, ever since that smile he gave you when you introduced yourself after the first session. It had been burning moments of eye contact, and those gentle encouragements from him.

Hell, after class this week when he praised your counterarguments, you thought about his voice saying “That’s good” over and over while you laid in your bed that night, coming with the image of him over you in record time.

The first word out of his mouth is your name, tone flicked up at the end in a question. He grumbles to himself as he moves to stand up, forgetting his drink on the table.

“Fuck, this is bad…” He whispers under his breath, shaking his head at himself as he runs his hands on the sides of his jeans. “I’m so sorry.”

He steps back to further the distance between you two, awkwardly avoiding your eyes as he attempts to recover his professionalism.

“It’s alr—“

“I had no idea it was you. This is completely inappropriate, I apologize. I should leave, uh, and I completely understand if you need to change out of my class. I know it’s past the cut-off date, but I would help if you needed—”

“Javi — can I call you that?” He considers it for a moment before nodding, rigidity evident in his body, “Javi, it’s alright. You don’t need to apologize, neither of us knew before this moment…But I do have to say, I wouldn’t tell.”

“Uh, I’m sorry — what?”

“I wouldn’t say anything. If you wanted to sit down and have a drink, or a few, and get to know each other like we planned to, I wouldn’t say a word. Even if you weren’t interested after this, I promise, the secret’s safe with me.”

Javier can’t deny how much he was looking forward to meeting the woman he was emailing with. And he can’t deny that he’s had his eyes on you since that first meeting. Hell, he can barely control his thoughts around you.

Of course, it had to be you. The two people he can’t get out of his head have turned out to be only one person, and of course, it’s you.

“If it informs your decision, I would love to get to know you more, Javi.”

He stutters through his thoughts out loud before resigning with a sigh, taking a breath as he forms his response, “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Definitely. Wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. Now, may I join you?” You gesture to the empty chair and Javi nods quickly.

“Yeah, of course. Here, let me get that.” He visibly relaxes a bit, falling into a routine he knows well. Rounding the small table, he pulls your chair out for you before settling in the seat opposite. Shortly after, a server comes around and takes your drink orders, Javier looking to you to go first. After the order is placed, the server leaves the two of you in silence at the table.

Another beat passes before Javier speaks, saying what you both are thinking, “Sorry, I just, cannot believe it happened to be you.”

“Why’s that?” You ask with a lilt of humor in your voice, sitting up in the chair to move toward him, “Don’t think I would be into all this?”

“Yeah, I guess so, but—Actually I should not say what I was about to say,” he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Oh, c’mon, what were you gonna say?”

“Nope, definitely not going to tell you, sweetheart,” he smirks at you and then adjusts in his seat awkwardly, “Oh, ‘m sorry, I shouldn’t have sa—“

“Javi. It’s fine, just relax. You’re not making me uncomfortable at all if that’s what you’re worried about,” you give him a sincere smile, reaching across to hold his arm that’s lying on the table, “It’s actually kind of nice to have those nicknames coming from you and not some other creepy men who contact me.”

“Why’s that?” He echoes your question from moments before, eyebrows raising in curiosity and the same smirk growing on his face, glancing down at your hand on him.

“I shouldn’t say what I was about to say,” you attempt to imitate his voice, laughing at the end when he gives you a look that says ‘Really?’.

“I don’t sound like that, cariño. But that’s a good try. Now what is it that makes me nicer than the other men you’ve seen?”

‘That’s a good try.’ This man.

“And how do you know that? I could be nailing what you sound like to other people. You hear your voice differently.” You poke his arm pointedly, moving your hand toward your lap again. Before it leaves the table, Javier stretches his arm across, catching your fingers with his. He holds them loosely in his, running his thumb across your knuckles as he keeps eye contact with you.

“I’ve heard my voice enough in press conferences that were televised, angel. I don’t sound like that,” he uses his free hand to take a sip of his whiskey, “And don’t try to change the subject. I wanna know what you are gonna say.”

“I could say the same thing to you. We both have our secrets tonight,” you take a sip of your drink and shrug, “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Nice negotiating, cariño, but I think I’d have to have a few more of these if I was going to share mine.” He raises his glass a couple of inches off the table, the amber liquid sloshing around before he sets it down again.

You’d say anything to get him to keep giving you praise like that all the time.

Grabbing your own glass, you lift it to him and smile, “Well, only one of these and I’ll be spilling all my dirty secrets.”

Javier’s jaw notches to the side as you say that, biting his cheek before he takes his hand from yours and runs his thumb across his bottom lip to the corner.

Inside his chest, he feels his heart beating faster and feels his blood rushing south, that same damn smile of yours that you give him from rows away in class doing the same damn thing it does to him there.

Half of him is wondering how he can make you smile like that all the time.

The other half wants to wipe that smile off of your face and have you whimpering.

What would you look like under him?

Jesus Christ, he’s way far gone.

Javier’s had three more whiskeys on top of his previous three. You’ve had about four drinks yourself.

The evening has devolved into something much more casual, breezy; conversation has flowed between you two, finding things in common and swapping stories that have the other laughing. From the serious professor in class, this more easy-going Javi is refreshing to see and definitely makes your crush a lot worse, somersaulting stomach and warm, syrupy flood across your whole body.

The subject has returned to the evening’s secrets, you asking him again to share what he was going to say.

“Please, Javi, it can’t be any more embarrassing than what mine is. I’ll tell you what I was gonna say if you promise to tell me.” You extend your arm, fingers closed into a fist beside your pinky.

He looks at your hand, debating internally before deciding ‘fuck it’ and links his little finger with yours.

“I promise, cariño,” he smiles and nods for you to share, “What are you dying to tell me so that you can hear what I was gonna say?”

“The affection from you is nice cause, I don’t know, you feel…safe. When I first started, I was getting some weird men that wanted to meet, and—This has just been fun,” you resign with a soft smile, “Plus it helps that you’re hot. Got the whole smoldering cop with the porn stache thing.”

“Smoldering cop with the porn stache? I didn’t realize that was a thing,” he laughs, the crinkles next to his eyes deepening before he takes your hand lying on the table, “I’m glad this has been fun for you. After all that shock and awkwardness at the beginning, I think it’s been really nice to get to know you, angel.”

“Alright, I shared my little secret, you share yours now.”

Javier sighs, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your skin. He takes a moment to speak before he meets your eyes, a resistant smirk on his face, “You are really gonna make me say this?”

“You pinky promised! I didn’t make you do that, there’s no coercion here, Javier.”

“Fine, fine. You’re too quick, cariño,” he squeezes your fingers with his, “I was gonna say before that I couldn’t believe it happened to be you ‘cause—It’s stupid, really, but I’ve had a bit of a crush on you since that first class, querida.”

“A crush? The sexy Professor Peña has a crush on me?”

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. Can’t keep ‘em off of you, cariño. Too beautiful. And you’re fucking on it all the time, so goddamn smart. I really am convinced you should be teaching for me,” he glances down sheepishly, feeling exposed from his tipsy confession.

The surface of your cheeks heats up, feeling a tingle down your spine when his eyes meet yours again. Leaning forward across the table, you bite your bottom lip as you drink him all in.

“D’you think I’ll ever be able to properly pay attention in class again after that?”

“You better, sweetheart. Just cause I’ve got a crush on you doesn’t mean you’ll get a good grade. Not gonna go easy on you. Fair’s fair.”

“Mm, I don’t mind it hard. I prefer it that way, actually. Makes it much more satisfying when you finish.” Your tongue wets your lips before you take your bottom one between your teeth, watching as Javier’s eyes darken at your double entendre.

He shakes his head, giving you a knowing look about your mischievous word choice, “Better be ready for a challenge then, angel.”

“Always, Peña.”

It’s late now, verging on turning into Sunday; the hours flew by with each other. Javier noticed the time on his watch, the crowd in the bar was sparse in spots that were full when he got there. When he looks at you, your eyelids look heavy, and those normally wide and bright eyes, eager and excited, look drowsy and content, so close to slipping closed and turning your mind off for the night.

“You ready to head out, angel? We’ll go find you a cab.” He asks with a subtle smile on his face, scooting out of his chair and standing, offering a hand to you.

“Yeah, m’ready.” You rise after taking his hand, hiking your small rectangular bag over your shoulder and stepping closer to him as he switches which hand is holding yours. Right in right, he grips yours from the outside of your palm, fingers lacing together as he presses his left into the small of your back, weaving between the patrons and out the front door.

The air is crisp when the door breaks open, cool air surrounding your warm, alcohol-blanketed bodies. Javier's touch still surrounds you, your right shoulder pressing into his chest when you turn to say something to him.

He takes a step back, allowing you the space to rotate fully in his arms, meeting his eyes and feeling a grin toy at your lips.

“Tonight was nice.”

“It was. Think I should be saying thanks to you. M’glad you had me stay.”

“Yeah? Well, m’happy to hear that cause I was gonna say, if you wanted to keep this up — meeting up, the arrangement all of that — if you wanted to keep it up for the semester, I would happily keep the secret. Y’know, you help me, I help you kind of thing. We just have fun.”

Javier considers the offer, ticking his jaw as he debates internally. On one hand, it’s a massive risk. The two of you could be seen out with each other, or if anyone noticed anything different in class, it could jeopardize his job, and possibly your degree. But on the other hand, if every night with you is like this one, he’s hard-pressed to say no. You’re funny and intelligent and beautiful — sure, there’s the element of how you two met and what happens behind the scenes, money taken out of his account monthly and forwarded to you through the service — but with the way you’ve had his heart pumping from your sweetness and his cock half hard at how turned on you have him constantly, he really can’t find a fuck to give about the risk.

“Alright. If you are in for it, I definitely am, angel,” he grins at you, his tongue poking out to wet his lips when his eyes flit to yours, the faint red lipstick of yours still holding strong.

“Good, Javi. That’s good,” your voice is a purr, a smug smirk playing at your lips when he leans in closer, walking you back towards the brick facade of the bar. His knees nearly give out when he hears those small praises, already waiting for the next time you speak them to him.

“Can I…?” he trails off, the tip of his nose only an inch from yours.

“You can kiss me, Javi.”

Without wasting another second, he catches his lips with yours, gentle at first with soft, delicate kisses exchanged. His tongue slides along your bottom lip, a breathy whimper parting your mouth enough for him to lick into it, melting his tongue with yours. One of his hands moves to hold your jaw, the other stagnant at your hip. A step closer brings him flush against you, quiet moans muffled into each other’s mouths.

The roughness of the brick is harsh against your bare skin on display, the contrasting sensations pooling arousal in between your legs. Javier tastes like tobacco, whiskey, and mint gum; an interesting combination but an intoxicating one. His hand at your hip moves around to your ass, pulling you off the wall slightly and against him, his growing bulge felt against your torso.

Before the two of you can get completely lost in each other, you pull away, hands on his chest. A taxi pulls up at that moment, honking its horn in question if you need a ride. You wave to him and ask for one minute with your fingers, turning back to Javi standing in front of you a bit breathless.

“I should go. Got some reading to do for this class on Monday that I’ve got.”

“Oh, yeah? Hope your professor hasn’t been killing you with the readings,” he smirks back at you.

“Nah, he hasn’t been killing me but seems like he does really wanna give it to me. Must have some high expectations,” your voice is coated with a lilt of teasing, winking at him as you slip from his arms.

He follows close behind to walk you to the cab, a hand finding your back and dropping down to graze his fingers across your ass.

“Think you’ll have no trouble exceeding those expectations, angel. Plus you could always ask for one-on-one tutoring or some extra credit.” It’s his turn to wink, opening the rear door for you and helping you in.

“Glad I have your confidence, Javi. Here, gimme your phone I’ll give you my number.” You reach out and he fumbles it from his pocket, passing it off to you. The information is quickly entered and saved, handing his device back to him and looking up at him from the seat of the cab.

“I’ll be waiting for a call, Javi. And I’ll see you Monday, Professor Peña.” You give him one last look, giggling as you shut the door and he hits the top of the taxi before you drive away, standing there with an idiotic smile on his face.

Javier grew up religious, his mamá dragging him to church every Sunday. He’s only been back to church at the major holidays he’s been home, leaving behind any spiritual side of him. All the concepts of eternal souls and heaven and hell meant nothing to him.

However, tonight, he felt an inkling to believe that heaven was real, and he had met an angel.

His angel.

tagging those from last time: @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @yazsos @cartoon-garbage04 @sugadolly @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel

IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST, PLEASE FILL THIS FORM OUT! thank you!

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Read It and Weep- Part 1

Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader

Summary: Sports journalist Y/n is covering a pro-NFL football game when she gets knocked down by wide reciever Rafe Cameron. He helps her up and immediately can't seem to take his eyes off of her as they celebrate their win. After, at the post game conference, him and the reader share an interesting conversation and he learns (earns) her name.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, I think that's it honestly.

Song: "My Ordinary Life" by The Living Tombstones

A/n: This might be the most excited I've ever seen @tee-swizzle get over a fic I've written. This is some serious hot and cute and angsty shit, buckle up, it's quite a ride. This is part 1 of 10!

I always thought the only time I would enjoy men running around in costumes would be on Broadway.

The sophisticated, planned, calculated moves, the falsetto notes they hit while running around in expensive costumes that took hours and hours to create. Men on Broadway are just a whole other breed- don’t get me wrong, all actors and actresses alike are all impressive beyond belief, it’s a hard field to be a part of. But there’s something so groundbreaking and heartwarming to see men of all backgrounds doing what they love to do.

There’s just an art to it- Broadway- a beauty that a lot of people brush off and denounce as girly or even something that’s remarkably easy. They call theater kids loony (which coming from one, I’d have to agree just a bit), they’re constantly bullied and harassed but not when they make it to the big times. No- then they are set up on this pedestal where they are to be paid hundreds or thousands of dollars to get on stage, to dance and sing their favorite show tunes together where all of a sudden they’re people to look up to, forgetting all about their high school days and all the failed auditions that teared them down. But once they’re on that stage together, creating music and art, they’re a family in a sense. Leaving it all on the stage for the viewer, us, to enjoy. 

A brotherhood.

My new stage looks a little bit differently than it did when I was sixteen. 

My new stage consists of something similar- men, running around in matching outfits, same bright lights shining on them, sweat pouring down their necks, and they’re still a brotherhood- maybe even more so in a sense. But with this stage, there’s profanities, there's violence and, most of all, there are too many balls in one place at one time. 

Pun so intended.

The world of sports is not one that I saw myself getting into at the ripe age of twenty four, let alone football. I’ve always had a bit of a thing against football players but that happens when you grow up in the theater world where you’re constantly pushed around by the ‘higher class’ of the horrible high school hierarchy, being called names, shoved down stairs, having your lunch tossed into your lap. But the job that I was offered through a local journal in my hometown was just perfect for me- I couldn’t not take it. There would be no other job that could've come around that would’ve given me the same freetime and the ability to still have control over my schedule, all while supporting my home team. It gave me a chance to travel, to learn, and to be surrounded by attractive, sweaty men doing their thing. 

There’s a bit of a silver lining to it, I guess.

Working as a journalist for a professional football team was not the intended goal when I got my Bachelors degree in Journalism, nor was it the plan for my Masters. I wanted to go into freelancing or maybe dabble a bit in the socioeconomic crisis our country’s suffering from- maybe even write a few articles on how to save the turtles or some shit. 

But football? 

I spend most of my days on the sidelines, sketching down stats, learning plays and keeping up in the personal lives of our devoted players. I’m like one of those cheerleading girls I used to hate, practically a groupie of the team at this point. Even the coach and the other behind-the-scenes workers are on a first name basis with me at this point. 

Sixteen year old me would be disgusted- repulsed.

Current me? Not so disgusted as I’m watching a bunch of tall, bachelor-like men run around the field at top speed, tackling each other as the crowd colored in all different jerseys scream or boo in unison. I can’t fight the proud smile that’s on my lips as I look out at the field, just right there in front of me- I could reach out and just be a part of it. There’s something to home games that just gets your blood pumping in a special way, especially so close to playoffs, so close to glory and a big old fancy ring for our quarterback and team. It’s every team’s goal for the year but every news agency’s eyes are on us, watching us and the players so closely, betting and guessing that we’ll be the one to win everything this year. No pressure, right?

It’s an honor to be traveling with them all, I couldn’t have been paired with a more respectful group of men, even though some of them don’t even know my name or that I exist. They might see my name occasionally at the bottom of an article I’ve written about their triumphs or losses or they know me as the girl that they accidentally mistake for the water girl and who they then apologize profusely to following the mix up. 

Sarah the water girl and I look awfully a lot we’ve learned.

There’s not a lot of time left in the game now, less than two minutes in the last quarter and it’s tight, too close for comfort as the men in the front row of the stands scream their asses off, acting like their words will have any weight in the overall game. With how we’re playing right now, the defensive line tuckered out beyond belief, we’re not looking at winning, especially if they hold possession of the ball like they have been. The other team is smart, I’ll give them that, gnawing down at the clock, running down the time so if we did get the ball, we’d barely have the time to do anything remotely impressive. We’re down by 6 and if we’d just get a touchdown we’d be good and we would win, but we just need to get possession of the ball.

I write down the numbers of the players who’ve stuck out to me the most on this team to calm my nerves; number three Cameron offense, number seventeen McHarley defense, number 4 the quarterback- wait. 

 Why is everyone cheering? 

What just happened? 

Looking up from my notepad, I watch as our defense runs the ball in the opposite direction that we were going in before, instead towards the opposing team's endzone, indicating that, indeed, there was a turnover of some sort while I wasn’t paying attention. If that’s all it takes, my job just became a whole lot easier. 

The play resets, our offensive line and our quarterback stumble onto the field with a bit more pep in their steps compared to their previous run. They’re cheering and high fiving the defense as they pass each other in the middle of the field, bright smiles calming everyone's general anxiety and setting the record straight that we’re still in the game. There’s still a chance. 

They set themselves up within seconds and in moments they’re hiking the ball. I watch number three, one of my favorite wide receivers to watch, simply because of his overall spunk and sass for the game, subtly loving when he gets into little fights with people because I can always manage to hear his silly, boyish insults. He tries so hard to act tough, when he's really just the biggest puppy of all time. 

I’m so caught up in thinking about him, I completely miss him barreling my way just as the quarterback throws the ball in his direction. Cameron is wide open, no one even close to tackling him and I can hear him whooping as he runs towards the end zone. I grin wildly as he catches the ball, solidifying our win, and before the refs even signal for a TD, the whole crowd erupts in giggles and cheers. I go to clap and cheer for him but before I can, an opposing player is giving him one last shove for good measure and he is tumbling onto the ground, the ref beside me immediately throwing a flag into the air, just as Rafe slides in my direction full force. 

Before I can move, he takes me down to the ground. Hard. 

I hit the floor with a loud thud, ears ringing as my head slams against the turf and I can hear muffled voices and hands grabbing at me, brain rattling around in my head as I shove my eyes closed as tightly as they can, hands reaching up to cradle my aching skull. I can feel people trying to pry me up onto my feet, to help me up but I’ve barely even processed that I’ve fallen or that my favorite wide receiver is currently laying on both of my legs, trapping me to the ground. 

My eyes pop open moments later at the realization and I see cameras around me, mostly pointed at Cameron who’s kneeling in front of me, soft, blue, worried eyes gazing back at me as I struggle to find my voice. He looks at me, waiting for me to speak and, when I don’t, he simply reaches out, placing a firm, protective hand on the side of my head, steading my spinning eyes. I feel my body warming up at his touch, the loud, thrumming music playing in the stadium as an attempt to celebrate is drowned out by his voice filling my ears, his whole body leaning towards me so he can speak directly against the shell of my ear. 

“You good?” He yells over the cheering, thumb brushing against my temple, and I realize he’s not even celebrating the fact that he just won the game that’s sending us to playoff games, mapping the road to the Superbowl. I give him a half assed nod and a flushed smile and before I can say anything else, his teammates are pulling him up and into their arms, screaming loudly as boys can, all for the cameras as they pat each other on the helmets, knocking them together every once in a while.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I mutter to myself, pressing my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to aid the headaches that’s creeping up the back of my neck, taking deep breaths and praying I don’t have a concussion. From across the field, through the mess of players and confetti, I can see number three looking over at me with kind, worried eyes that seem to want to say more than what he’s already said to me.

His eyes make me nearly forget that it’s my job to interview them. 

I guess I’ll ride my headache out and wait till the post game conference. 

–

From the time I got knocked down to the time when I stepped foot into the conference room, there were at least twenty-six different people who asked me if I was the one who was ‘tackled’ by Rafe Cameron after he caught the winning touchdown. After the third time, I started to feel a bit sheepish and honestly a bit embarrassed, wondering how long they’re going to string this out and ask me what it was like to be tackled by America’s most loved wide receiver. 

It was rough, I hit my head, it hurt- what else do they want from me? Do they want me to say I’m honored that he was so close to me, fangirl over his presence, that he made eye contact with me? Hell, he’s human and so am I. His reaction was purely a moment of humility and humanity shining through. 

But I totally did get butterflies.

But, to be honest, he is probably the most wholesome, mama’s boy you’ll ever see.

Dirty blonde, shaggy hair, blue shining eyes, overall toned to a T and he’s all meathead minus all of the misogyny and toxic masculinity. He’s always respectful in interviews, polite to women- it’s obvious he was raised well and anyone with a brain can tell that he’s wildly intelligent from his masters degree in Sports Communication. It’s impressive, his story. 

“So, you won the came, Cameron- how does it feel?” An interviewer calls out from the audience beside me, the happy smile on his face only feeding into the fact that he’s definitely a fan, and Rafe smiles handsomely, looking out across the audience with a simple, humble shrug. 

“Felt good taking the team to the playoffs. I couldn’t have done it without my quarterback, number 4, Greg Abernathy.” He reaches over to slap Greg on the back and I grin, scribbling down some words on my notepad, a small smile on my face as I listen to the boys commend each other in a bro-mance type love. They’re always very supportive of one another, having a type of relationship where you really don’t see one without hte other. They’re constantly training together, getting dinner together, having literal sleepovers at each other’s apartments (or so I’ve heard). They’re brothers, there’s no better description for the boys. “But I really have to give it up to the nice lady that I tackled, I feel horrible. I’d like to dedicate our win to her today since she obviously was a part of my excitement. You can put that in writing.” 

I’m sorry? 

Dedicated?

What?

All eyes turn to look at me and I feel my face drain of any color, every hair on my body sticking up as I suddenly feel so small in this room full of my very own coworkers and competitors. I can hear Rafe mutter a quiet ‘shit, she’s here?’ away from the mic and to Greg, who just chuckles and points in my direction, the direction that everyone happens to be looking in. I can see the looks in other journalists' and reporters' eyes, they want to talk to me, they want to shove microphones in my face but based on the ‘deer in headlights’ look I’m giving everyone, I think I’ll be safe from their interrogations. Rafe looks at me and his smile only grows, fingers reaching out to wrap around the mic to pull it closer to his lips as I anticipate what’s to come.

“Hi nice lady that I knocked over, are you okay?” His voice is ten times deeper than it was just moments ago and I can feel my brain melting just at the feeling of him looking back at me, matching my gaze as if he’s just as excited to be speaking to me one on one. 

Me. 

“I’m okay, just a bit banged up.” I call out, shakily shoving my pen and paper into my bag beside me to give him my undivided attention which, it’s not like he has to fight for it, I’m practically drooling simply because he’s gazing at me, giving me his complete and utter attention as hands raise around the room. The way he’s staring at me, eagerly hanging onto every word I say and I can see it, it’s not like he’s even trying to not seem completely enthralled with my every breath. 

“Man, you traumatized the poor girl.” Greg mutters into the mic and the room erupts in laughter and I bite back the laugh that wants to escape me but I don’t dare allow the giggles to leave me when Rafe is just staring me down with a soft look and a gentle smile, something completely opposite of his rowdy behavior and profanities on the field. But after a second, a look of realization passes across his expression and he turns to look at Greg with a worried expression before glancing back at me.

“I did not- you’re not traumatized, right?” He asks me and I laugh, waving him off as I reach up to knock at my own head. What a stupid move, Y/l/n, get it together.

“No, god no. It happens.” I chuckle, brushing off his concerns of injury and he visibly relaxes, head bobbing in a gentle nod as he laughs sheepishly, almost embarrassed that he seemed to care so much in front of a room of random people. “It could’ve been worse. Could’ve been the other team, they wouldn’t have helped me up.”

“So you’re saying his charisma and manners is what saved him from being brutalized all over the internet?” Greg interrupts before Rafe can say anything with a wide eyed, shocked, teasing look.

“For sure.” I grin proudly, already thinking about how excited I’ll be to call my dad after this conference and tell him all about how I got to talk to and compliment one of his favorite players in the NFL. He’s going to shit his pants. He’s been gushing about his stats for the two years that Rafe’s been on the team, every Sunday, blabbering about his stats, his goals, his story- hell I probably know more about him than anyone else in this room right now.

“Well, I appreciate that. My step mom will be happy to hear she did something right.” Rafe blushes warmly, the redness creeping down his neck and under the polo that he wears as another rumble of laughter rolls over the room like a wave and I keep it in the back of my mind to make it known in my article that he’s definitely some sort of mama’s boy through and through. No wonder he’s so respectful. 

“Happy to help.” I smile warmly, the room falling awkwardly silent again before the reporters buzz with questions like angry bees, eager to move on from Rafe and I ogling each other oddly from across the room. I can’t fight the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the conversation we just had; there was no hint of annoyance, only eager questions and concern that I genuinely do appreciate. He didn’t need to follow up with me, he didn’t need to call me out in regards to their win, all that without even knowing I was here. 

But he did.

That matters for something, right?

Right?

“Hey, before we move on, I just wanna get your name- what’s your name? Are you one of our journalists?” Rafe asks, quickly grabbing hold of the mic firmly in his fist before Greg can pull it away from him and I nod firmly and proudly.

“My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and, yeah, I’ve worked for you guys for nearly eight months.” I swallow my nerves, now suddenly aware that he knows who I am and can talk to me and look for me in any crowd and just know who I am. Rafe Cameron knows who I am. 

It takes a second but I’m slowly realizing that he’s truly just a person and not anything to be afraid of. 

Right?

“Oh my god she’s the one who wrote that article about your tweets on twitter like two weeks ago.” Greg gasps and the room turns to me once again, confusion and shock written across all of their faces and, I’ve got to give it to him, I’m shocked that they even read articles about them. I assumed they just filter it out and try not to pay attention to the news headlines with their names in it but, now that I know that they read them, I’ll be more careful when throwing the word ‘handsome’ around in my pieces.

“Guilty as charged.” I breathe a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck awkwardly and a sort of tension falls over the room as everyone waits for a more in depth answer from me, their eyes (especially Rafe’s) practically begging for why I wrote the article. “I think it’s nice for young viewers, especially young boys, to see someone who’s a better influence than most of the sports players that are in the media.” A nod of agreement falls across the room and Rafe smiles wholesomely, looking at Greg with a happily proud expression written across his face, like he’s made it.

“So I’m a role model, that’s what you are saying?” He asks but there’s no cockiness or arrogance to his voice- no- just pure and utter pride and vulnerability at the thought of doing right by the football world and, in my opinion, he definitely has. 

All of the gala’s he’s attended, the hospitals he’s visited to talk to and to comfort young children, the way his smile lights up the locker room- even if they lose- the beaming smile he shows if they do win, and all of the money he’s donated to so many important organizations- my point, and the point of my article was, is that he’s what the NFL should be fronting, not the garbage-like, questionable, geriatric old men who need to retire.

“Exactly what I’m saying.” I smile firmly, not tearing my gaze away from his as he nods, leaning back in his chair and he finally appears content with our conversation because he finally allows Greg to take the mic back, but his eyes do not leave me as the room fills with questions once more.

“Hey, that was sweet and all, but can we talk about football now?”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not telling someone I wasn't their bully 100% of the time

Hey so I was a shitty kid and i willbe TA for most of the story. However the ambiguous non-ending spins around my head nonstop

! In high-school I met a friend, Lacy (mtf) who had recently come out. We bonded over mutual Fandoms and shared classes and ended up pooling friends. I was already tight friends with one other girl we can call Sam. Sam went to another school but me and her had been best friends for many years and talked constantly online. After spending a lot of time with Lacy, and with L and S in a group, I started to get a little crush. Me and Lacy had this habit of passing comic notes to eachother between classes and they were just so fun. Anyways I ended up passing them one asking them out and she agreed. We talked about it casually after and I kept the note. In the background, me and Sam talk constantly about Lacy. Outside of school, online, Lacy often goes on long rants and tangents and caps it off being painfully self depreciating and insinuating self harm. I honestly don't hold that against her too much, given how young we were and how much stuff was going on. Very quickly I realize this tiny crush evaporates in the heat of her stomping rants. My gut sinks when Lacy mentions we are dating. It's been less than a day. Sam messages me immediately and I make the terrible snap decision to lie. I lie about it and I have the evidence so my version becomes correct. I tell Sam I didn't *really* ask Lacy out, blah blah. The lie doesn't end. Lacy has an explosive breakdown about it, well warranted, and I lie to adults and school administrators as well. We were friends, I guess she got too attached, we talk all the time but no. I never asked her to date. Papers signed, case closed. Lacy blocks me everywhere. The year ends. I resign to never speaking to her, as the unquestioned bully in this situation I wouldn't have the right to approach her about it. I think I send one anon ask completely unrelated to her or our lives, then block her back as is only fair.

Short hop forwards a month or two. Sam sends me a message about an update to Lacys blog. Lacy is otherkin and Sam is laughing at the kin list, sending anon messages mocking Lacy about the choices and identity. Very unfamiliar with otherkin but struggling with gender thoughts myself I don't respond much.

Fast forward a few years. Me and Sam don't talk much now. I got a boyfriend and couldn't help love how much he ignored me. Everything else fell through cracks. Working at my restaurant job one day, who else comes in but Lacy. We are very busy, I try to be quick, don't make eye contact. "Party of....for Lacy?" She nods. The lobby is full so they walk out the door and never come back. Later when my shift is over I unblock and check her blog. She's made a post saying I was her abuser and had sent her constant anon hate since bullying her in hs. Checking her ask tag I see Sam on anon sends 3-6 hate messages a year. I do nothing and leave everyone be and move on.

Another 3 years goes by. Sam reaches out. She's terminally ill, and we speak stiffly for a few IMs. I don't forgive myself for leaving her and decide it's best we don't keep talking. Another few years and Sam passes. Our old friends go through Sam's papers and pc files reminiscing and find pages and pages of shared chat logs between me L and S. It really was a harsh reminder of how cruel I had been, speaking behind Lacys back and lying. I don't doubt I caused her lasting trauma with my actions.

Part of me wanted to reach out to Lacy and apologize, explaining myself and the misunderstanding and clearing the lie not because I wanted to feel absolved I just that it's finally done now. But it feels so cruel to do it when 1. As the original bully it's still not my place to seek closure 2. I can't just toss my friends corpse under this bus for no reason.

It's soon a decade since we all left school so the time seems well past. I just can't stop thinking about all the mistakes. And there seems no reason to bring it all up after all Sam can't say anything about it anymore and nobody is hurt believing i said these things. So, AITA for not telling Lacy it wasn't me bullying her most of the time?

What are these acronyms?

[chakotaybodypillow]

sorry yall for not posting about my Chakotay stuff ☹️ even though i said i wanted to get as much out before school started, Ive taken a bit of a turn on that for a few reasons.

I really wanted to start by addressing and sharing info about the Nicarao, but I wanted to provide more information than what was available with a quick google search, and tbh, it has proven to be difficult. I've been able to find some solid research backed with sources so I'm working on summarizing that, but I want to languish over the material so I can fully grasp the historical context being discussed. Its mentioned several times in the book I've chosen to read that the research is a difficult mosaic. So its taking me several reads to digest the series of events listed. It's a lot but not that much a at the same time. Ive had to expand my readings to encompass the entirity of Central America as well as Mexico.

Unfortunately the amount of contemporary ethnographic research of the Indigenous people of the Rivas is also very very limited. Which is disappointing :/ from what I've read the Nicarao as a group are extinct. So I've also had to shift my focus to groups that are still active to get a better understanding of the Native populations.... its a lot and i more than likely will post in chunks as i take in more information. So when i finally do make the first post it will be a small historic break down of theories and studies about the arrival of the Nahuas to Nicaragua :)

Also....off topic i had a discussion with my editor (my mom) after i posted my topics and she told me that i had essentially created an outline for a master's thesis 😅... and that posting it publicly was a mistake 😅😅... bc now it cant be considered my research😅😅😅 ....... She was telling me to consider making this into real academic research and we discussed the different methods of pop culture research and such. Ive considred making this into something bigger, but idk. it would make all of this worthwhile, but im also kinda insecure about this .

But to clarify i use the terms "thesis" or "research" lightly. While yes ive done research, i dont plan to make this a formal thing when i post to tumblr and elsewhere, just to stay on the safe side. I guess I'll make this more of a blog where i discuss my thoughts and address concerns rather than dive into these super academic discussions.

I just want to encourage others to think critically about chakotays portrayal and possibly lay down a framework for his background story. I only intend to speak on things that i feel comfortable speaking on as a poc analyzing anither poc character and will avoid some indigenous specific perspectives.

so yeah school starts for me soon and i'm going to be hemmed up with that, but im excited becasue im taking some classes that will help me with the chakotay topics hehe.

thanks for listening to my yap session! Im almost done with the summarizing and hope to post a little bit soon :D

[britt-kageryuu]

Back with the idea of the Turtles taking part in Reptile Education Programs, but let's toss is the whole 'The Turtles can understand normal turtles/reptiles' idea.

So yes the turtles (even if some are reluctant at first) are helping with handling and talking about whichever reptiles are part of the program. While trying to ignore the critters chatting to focus on what the kids/audience might ask.

Because the turtles don't always want others to know they can understand the turtles/reptiles, because that will lead to endless questions of what they're saying and wanting to have the turtles act as translators.

But the urge to just shout shut up at the turtles/reptiles is very strong at times. Especially if they're in a zoo or aquarium because there's way more creatures chattering about.

Though there are some who don't mind people knowing they can understand the critters, and the novelty kinda wears off, though the organizers remind the kids/audience that it's not polite to badger the turtles about what every critter is 'talking' about.

The main difference with adding the ability to understand normal turtles/reptiles is just the random comment from the turtles about what the non mutant critters are saying or the implications of the silent communication that animals have.

Like the image of Rise Donnie standing in front of a turtle tank when a softshell swims up to him for a minute and suddenly Donnie turns around hissing before vocalizing 'how dare you imply that about my person!'

But Rise Leo would probably be 'chatting' with the turtles, and casually telling the humans about the random stuff they're saying.

With the other turtles, the 80s turtles would be the most casual about this, and don't mind sharing as long as it's not too disturbing, I guess.

The 03 turtles I can at least see Don and Mikey being more open about it, Raph would be a bit less open unless you don't annoy him, Leo probably wouldn't mind, but he purposefully avoids specific turtles, for reasons.

The 12 turtles might be more open to translating, but it depends on the group, and the current mood of the turtle.

With the 14/bay turtles I can really only see Donnie and Mikey being open about it, I figure Raph might get annoyed more easily, and Leo tries to keep it short.

The Rise Turtles would definitely love to chat with and translate, though they will avoid translating things that would not be kid friendly.

The MM Turtles are probably kinda awkward about the whole thing, because the kids at school kept asking them about what the class pets (if any) were saying about them, and little kids have even less of a filter, and ask weirder questions.

The other iterations all just depend on what's going on in universe, thus I can't give many ideas for them, but there is at least one fanfiction out there of Damian Wayne asking Mikey to translate what a normal turtle is saying.

Still the idea of normal turtles trying to attract the Turtles attention for any reason is a bit more funny if the boys reply back with 'we already have a bale please stop asking', 'It would never work out sorry', 'I already have a mate, and don't want another', 'miss/sir I am like 200 times bigger than you!'

---------------

This is literally me taking two ideas I made posts about, and mashing them together.

[alwaysaslutforfic]

Kyoutani Headcanons ❤️ - NSFW

Guess who’s back with some more headcanons 😏 Apparently I have a thing for mean, blond boys

Warnings: again nothing super explicit, mentions of costumes, oral, recording videos

Minors DNI! There is nothing for you under the cut! I MEAN IT!

Unbeta’d cos 🤷🏾

Despite his aesthetic, he’s actually pretty smart. (I mean he did transfer into an academy so) and is also a pretty gentle tutor. He knows what it’s like to be discouraged from doing something you enjoy so he would never make you feel bad for trying even though your answers are just so very wrong

Very high-key low-key scared of heights. You once got trapped on the 20th floor in an elevator with him and seriously considered knocking him out. If you go to a theme park, he will gladly Watch you ride the rollercoasters. (He loves the teacups though)

Actually has a really charming, boyish smile but it only ever comes out around you

Summer freckles. There aren’t a lot of them, but they are prominent. And a gorgeous tan. If it weren’t for the RBF you’d be more worried with how handsome he is in summertime

Loves to push your buttons but would also never want to disrespect you, so you have a lot of random consent talks; “Can I smack your ass?” “…Like right now?” “Just whenever.” “Sure?” “Cool, lemme know if you want me to stop.” — Proceeds to smack your ass literally every time you walk past him, no matter where you are. You nearly slapped him once when he happened to see you in public cos you thought it was a stranger

Says the sweetest shit with the most deadpan of expressions. Has zero shame or reservations about how much he loves you. He’s a straightforward person through and through. Just wanders into the room you’re in and hits you with “You know your my reason for breathing, right?” 😠

Posts gym thirst traps, but without the intent of them being thirst traps. He just likes to track and share his progress but dude is so buff that it just works out that way (he sends all his actual thirst traps to you directly)

Sweaty, sweaty boy but he doesn’t really smell. Probably sweats so much cos he’s always warm and for that reason winter is his favourite season. He doesn’t sweat as much and you’re always cuddling up to him for warmth

Loves anime. Will watch it for hours with you. And not just Shounen too, this man is an anime connoisseur and has the best recommendations no matter the genre. But beware, cos he waits for no one. If you miss an episode that’s on you

Oh shit and his grime selection! Elite!! He heard one song and he was hooked. Started calling Oikawa a wasteman and is endlessly amused by it

Outside of that though, he will listen to any and everything. Music is music and as such his Spotify is a trash heap. Like shit is jarring, and is predominately yelling. Boy doesn’t know the meaning of the word playlist

Be his jetpack 😭 he loves being the little spoon. He nuzzles when he’s sleepy

An early riser but not a morning person. And even worse, he hates the taste of coffee so he’ll just glare blearily for at least an hour whenever he wakes up

But he really enjoys herbal tea. Him showing you his collection is what prompted your biweekly selfcare nights. He doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he’s content to spend time with you and let you do whatever. (He also never knew skin could feel that fucking soft)

Oh and good luck waking him up. There’s a video in the OG Seijoh group chat of him sleeping through 4 different foghorn alarms. He was banned from naps after he slept through lunch and missed his next class and was 15 minutes late to practise cos he just wouldn’t wake up. Just dead to the world once his head hits a pillow

He likes when you wear trashy, slutty outfits. Naughty firewoman/man, naughty nurse, naughty cheerleader, naughty grinch. He likes it even more when you play it up. The naughty teacher fulfilled fantasies he didn’t even know he had

He calls you puppy during sex when he’s feeling particulary dominant and you surprised him with a costume on his birthday compete with ears and a tail. He went three rounds that night and you lost count of how many times you came

He gets worked up being ignored by you, likes having to work for your attention. He could spend hours kissing up and down your neck as you read, ignoring the hard on he’s grinding into your ass. It’s only when he’s manhandling you that you break the ruse

Goes gooey eyed for some head. I’m talking knees shaking, toes curled. Man turns to straight mush. The first blowjob you gave him lasted mere minutes, but it was so hot listening to him whimper as he came in your mouth that you weren’t that upset

(Speaking of whimpers) Deep, growling moans, and pretty little whimpers when he cums. He just sounds so good during sex that you actually get a little excited when he has to go to away games cos that means hearing it directly in your ear through the phone

Loves taking videos of the two of you. He just loves having the view of you and him together on hand. And if he plays them in the background while you fuck once or twice, well your embarrassment only makes it hotter

Will eat you out after the gym. He actually gets upset if you shower first cos you washed off the ✨sparkle✨. He just loves the way you taste in general. He mouths wet kisses into your skin when you fuck just so he can taste you

I have one more of these in the works atm 😜 can you guess who it is?